Past and Present
by sunnyday30
Summary: Set pre-series. How did Guy come to be Vaisey's right hand man and did he get more than he bargained for? Also explores how Isabella was married off.
1. Prologue

**Characters****: Guy, Vaisey, Isabella****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>

**A/N****: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. **

Prologue

Guy rested his arms on the rails of the ship's deck and looked out to sea; the boat was rocking gently, but not enough to bother him. He tasted the salt in the air as he was carried back towards England, towards the land of his birth and the land of his father.

They had been in France for nearly ten years, finding sanctuary first with his mother's relations and then, as soon as he could, he had entered the service of a knight looking for a manservant, securing a roof over his head for himself and Isabella. She had not wanted to leave their aunt, but Guy couldn't bear the daily reminders of his father's downfall, of his failures and by default, Guy's failures.

_You should have held Locksley; it was yours, foolish boy. Running when you should have fought, you are weak._

Guy watched the waves as they splashed against the side of the boat and tried to stare into their dark depths. He recalled their last boat journey: their escape. They had both been horribly seasick on the rough crossing and Isabella had sobbed herself to sleep every night. Guy had felt like doing the same, but most of the time he was just numb. They had eventually arrived on his aunt's doorstep, bedraggled and malnourished. They had been given sanctuary, but whilst Isabella was coddled and comforted, he had had to explain. Explain what had happened to leave his parents dead and them washed up on a doorstep in France, alone and friendless. The family had been greatly grieved, but when the shock had worn off, he had found himself blamed for what had happened, blamed for their family's loss of position and honour. He had born the crushing disdain of his relatives as well as his own consuming guilt.

Guy knew they all blamed his father too, for letting his mother down and causing her death. Guy hadn't exactly told them the full story, he'd told them about the fire, told them his father had returned injured from the crusades. He had omitted to mention the leprosy, he was too ashamed. He felt guilty for his shame, as if he was disowning his father, of whom he had been so proud. He had also omitted to mention his mother's ill fated affair with Malcolm Locksley. His blood still burned when he thought of that man. The only good thing about that fateful day had been his death.

Isabella was below deck, he knew she was scared of what lay ahead for her in England. When told she would be married she had cried, begged and implored him to change his mind. He had held her and brushed away her tears as he had so many times over the years, but was resolute. He couldn't give her anything himself, but in securing this marriage he would be able to give her some status, she would have a title, her children would have lands and he would have money.

Isabella's suitor had been quite taken with her beauty and offered a decent amount for her hand, though Guy had neglected to tell Isabella this particular bit for information. Guy had been reluctant initially, he had not intended to marry her off so soon, but at seventeen she was older than many and he could not pursue his ambitions with her at his side always.

Isabella now approached him; she stood beside him, her look both reproachful and resigned. He placed his arm around her shoulders, but said nothing. There was nothing more to say. She had shouted, cried, besieged him; appealed to his better nature and his worst. He had tried to reason with her, comfort her and persuade her. He had also done something he had never done before. He had hit her. Hit her hard around the head, leaving her gasping and shaking on the floor, blood streaming from her temple where his ring had caught her. He had then warned her to learn some obedience as not all men were as forgiving as him. She had laughed at this and he had come close to striking her again. Only a black gloved hand on his arm had stayed it.

'How long, Guy?' she asked quietly. Guy glanced at her face, there was still a mark on her head from his blow.

'A day at most,' he replied. 'You will have a night in Weymouth, we will then meet Thornton.'

'Guy, I'm scared.'

'There is no need. You will have your husband to care for you. You will be Lady Thornton; you will have everything you need. You will be able to hold your head up and be proud of your name and position in the world. Your children will have position and money. I will not feel sorry for you Isabella. If I could so easily get these things do you not think I would?'

'Of course, you are right.' She sounded resigned and leaned her head against his chest. 'What will you do? Do you still plan to go to London?'

'Yes, I will go to London.'

'Will I ever see you again?'

'You will not miss me, not when you have your manor house and your children. You must promise me you will not miss me.' Guy knew he was asking the impossible of her, but it made it easier for him to imagine her in splendid luxury, too busy choosing beautiful dresses and chasing her children to think of him.

'You are all I have, Guy,' she said softly. 'Are you definitely going with him?' her voice and face darkened as she said the word 'him'.

'Yes, Vaisey is a powerful man, he has the favour of the King and he is going to introduce me at court. He believes I can get our lands back. I will have land and status again Isabella. The Gisborne name will be restored.'

'But what does he want from you in return?'

'I will be his lieutenant, I will assist his plans, he has been looking for someone to help him and I am a knight, I am a good fighter, I will be of great use to him.'

'I don't trust him, Guy, I don't like the way he looks at you.'

'You're being ridiculous. Is it so hard to believe that someone might value me? I am a good solider, a good knight. If I had money, land . . . it would be different. He has been true to his word in everything. Anyway you won't have to worry about him soon.'

'Please visit me, Guy, I know what you said, but please,' Isabella's voice was soft, but with an edge of desperation.

'I have told you before I will visit you when I have our lands back. I would not shame you by being the beggared relative. I may have a title, but without lands and wealth what does it mean? I would not have the respect of a lord.' Guy let go of Isabella and leaned both hands on the deck. She started to say his name, but he gripped her wrist hard and faced her. 'Enough!' he told her harshly. She stared at him for a moment, pulled her arm free and hurried off to towards her cabin.

Guy sighed, he was fed up of her complaints and now looked forward to the wedding, when he would be free of her. He felt a pang of guilt , but it passed quickly enough. He had done his duty to her, kept her and cared for her and now found her a husband. He had more pressing matters; namely pursuing his ambitions to restore his lands and gain power and influence. And thanks to his good fortune six weeks ago he now had the means to do it.


	2. Chapter 1

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey, Isabella****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. ****  
><strong>  
><span>Chapter 1<span>

_A Soldiers' Garrison, France._

Guy of Gisborne was a proud man, he may not have had much to be proud of, but he had always valued his pride and dignity. He had worked damn hard for ten years; there had been no family assistance to help him secure training with the Duke of Orléans. Guy had won that on merit; through his hard work and physical prowess. He would learn the skills of a knight during the day and then, when his peers had time for leisure, he had to earn his keep in the castle. His duties were no longer arduous or labour intensive, but it was work nonetheless.

He had been a quick learner, physically strong, with a brutal streak. Pierre of Blois, his trainer and mentor of sorts, had thought him capable of besting anyone in northern France on his day. Guy had been desperate to enter tournaments, but with no rich benefactor and no money of his own he was left on the sidelines. Unable to afford his own equipment and armour he had watched as less skilled men took the spoils of victory.

Guy had seethed at the injustice of it. He would train as if it was the real thing and found a vicious streak that seemed to take root and grow inside him. Finally the inevitable happened: a sparring match had resulted in him maiming his opponent quite badly. He knew he might have killed if he had been allowed to carry on, as it was the man was lucky to leave with his life. Guy knew as the man had been carried away, with an ugly, deep gorge in his leg that he had gone too far. He didn't feel anything more than a passing twinge of guilt though. Roger de Belvoir was so rich he would live a prosperous life had Guy cut both his legs off. He already had a beautiful, high born wife. Guy had felt sorry for himself instead, sure he would now be relegated to polishing weapons and saddling horses at best, still having to keep Isabella, unable to secure any kind of future for either of them.

Guy had thought he was finished with Pierre, who had tolerated his temper and growing brutality as qualities necessary for a warrior, but was growing impatient with Guy's excesses, which were increasingly hard to reign in. The boys who were beneath him at the garrison were terrified of him, his temper was quick and he brooked no argument. He was too ready to take out his anger on whoever was nearby and too weak to stop him. Guy remembered Pierre's lectures on treating the younger boys more leniently. He had listened, nodded and made the right noises, but found himself caring less and less about the fairness or nobility of his actions. True, Pierre had been good to him, but there was nothing fair in life.

But Guy had not been punished for his loss of control that day. Unknown to him as he drowned his sorrows in a local tavern, comforted by his favourite tavern girl, someone was making enquires about the formidable young man, dressed in black, who was clearly bubbling with anger. Anger that could be turned into a terrible weapon in the right hands. Pierre had seen his chance to off load Guy in good conscience. This was what Guy needed he had thought, a patron rich enough to enable to him to rise to the station his title deserved. So as Guy drowned himself in drink and female flesh, Pierre had sat with this stranger from England and told him all about his young charge: Sir Guy of Gisborne.

Pierre of Blois approached Guy the morning after his violent altercation with Roger of Belvoir, as he lay in bed, feeling hung over with his arm still draped around Lucille, his girl from the tavern. His bed was narrow and sparse; there was a sort of screen separating his small area from the rest of the room which housed all the soldiers. A small trunk stood on the right hand side of the bed, serving as a table also, with a candle and water jug on top of it. On the other side of his bed there was a small window over looking a courtyard. Guy liked the position of his bed, it afforded him more privacy than most. He still envied Isabella, with a soft mattress, in the house of the Duchess of Orleans; far more comfortable lodgings for a lot less toil.

'Gisborne, get up,' Pierre snapped looking in disgust at Guy's dishevelled state. 'Get rid of her and get dressed. You have a visitor.' Guy looked in consternation at the older man, standing over him with his dark blond hair slicked back, a frown on his tough, world worn face. He grunted and rolled his stiff, cold body into Lucille's warm, soft one.

'Go away,' Guy mumbled closing his eyes again. He wished Pierre would disappear so he could assuage his desire to bury his face in her soft blonde hair. But Pierre had no intention of disappearing. He roughly pulled the blanket from Guy and snorted in disgust on seeing that he wore nothing underneath it, nor did the girl.

'You have an important visitor to see you, so get up,' he snapped, flinging the blanket back. Guy rubbed his eyes and stared at Pierre

'Visitor?' he mumbled giving Lucille a shove to wake her up. Guy had rubbed his eyes and yawned. 'Who?' he couldn't imagine who on earth would want to see him, apart from Isabella and Pierre wouldn't drag him out of bed for her.

'An English lord. So get up and think yourself lucky it's not Belvoir.'

Guy snorted and looked disdainful. 'Should've fought like a man, he won't get that kind of mercy in a real battle. I doubt the Pope wants cowards in the Holy Land.'

'Enough, Gisborne! I want you downstairs looking presentable in ten minutes.'

Guy smirked and reached across the bed grabbing Lucille's thigh. 'Wait, Luce,' he growled at her. He still entertained a notion of having a more enjoyable wake up call with her.

'No, you do not have time for that. Gisborne, get that girl out of here and get downstairs.' Guy gave an insolent stare. 'Now!' Pierre thundered as he turned on his heel. Guy sank back on the bed as Lucille rolled towards him and slid her hand under the covers.

'No,' he groaned knocking her hand away, 'get up, Luce, I have to go.' He made to get up and she grabbed him again giggling.

'You don't mean that,' she said with a coy smile. Guy turned and pushed her roughly back on the bed.

'I said no! I have no time for whores this morning!' he spat at her. She looked hurt and turned her back, but knew better than to retort. Guy dressed himself quickly and then helped Lucille with her dress so she would be gone quicker.

'I guess I'll see you when I see you,' she said coldly as she finished adjusting her dress.

'Yeah,' Guy was looking for a comb and found her presence distracting; he wished she'd hurry up and go.

'You know, Guy, you really need to work on your small talk.' She pulled her shawl over her shoulders then gave him a wink. Guy found himself smiling at her, one of the reasons he liked Lucille was that nothing seemed to get her down, she was always cheerful and seemed impervious to his bad moods.

'So you've said,' he bent down to kiss her cheek, pushing back a strand of her dirty blond hair. Guy smiled again as he squeezed one of her ample breasts. 'I'll see you soon, you know I can't stay away from you for long,' he whispered in her ear. He then turned her towards the door and slapped her backside as she left. Guy shook his head, he was too fond of that one, far too fond for a tavern girl.

Guy splashed some cold water on his face and took several gulps of water straight from the jug beside his bed, unable to locate the cup. He wiped himself dry, combed his hair and headed downstairs, now deeply curious as to whom his visitor might be and also apprehensive as he thought of what had happened yesterday, surely he wouldn't face charges for that? His stomach clenched and he fought a rising wave of nausea that had nothing to do with last night's drinking.

* * *

><p>Pierre waited in the parlour below the men's lodgings. It was a functional room with virtually no adornments, except for the huge crest of the Duke of Orleans above the fire place and on the far wall. There were bows lined up on one wall, swords and daggers on another. These were the men's personal weapons; Pierre had banned them from the sleeping quarters years ago. The bulk of the weapons were in the armoury. There was a long table in the centre of the room, with wooden benches running along its length. The table was set for the men's simple breakfast of bread, cheese and ale. Guy's stomach lurched at the sight of the food. He looked towards the fireplace and saw two figures sat in the only two chairs in the room.<p>

Apart from Pierre, in his familiar brown jerkin, his grim face frowning at him, Guy saw an expensively dressed man sitting in the chair facing him. He seemed short in stature, even when sitting and getting on in years, but with a definite presence that made Guy immediately feel a measure of intimidation and respect. The man was draped causally over the best chair with an air of superiority and disdain for his surroundings. His eyes seemed to bore into Guy as he appraised him and Guy hoped to God he looked better than he felt as he waited to be introduced.

'My Lord, may I present Sir Guy of Gisborne. Gisborne, meet Lord Vaisey, Earl of Lincoln.' Guy bowed his head.

'It is an honour to meet you, my Lord,' Guy said in what he hoped was a suitably deferential tone. He admired Vaisey's heavily embroidered velvet and leather doublet. It looked very expensive. He also noted the fur trimmed cloak laid across a chair beside the door, black and also expensive looking.

'Lord Vaisey has taken quite an interest in you, Gisborne, he saw you yesterday, fighting with Belvoir. He has a proposition for you,' Guy's eyes lit up with interest as it dawned on him he might have impressed this English noble.

'Delighted to meet you at last,' Vaisey said, finally speaking in a friendly, slightly oily tone, but with a voice that carried an unmistakeably authoritative edge. 'You made quite an impression yesterday.' He turned to Pierre, 'You may leave us now.' Pierre looked a little affronted to be turned out, but said nothing as he turned and left.

Vaisey walked towards Guy and stood closer to him, regarding him closely, taking in his height and features.

'Have you ever killed a man, Gisborne?' he asked suddenly. Guy swallowed; it was not what he had been expecting. He thought back to that terrible day in Locksley, to the fire.

'Not intentionally, My Lord,' he finally answered.

'Could you kill a man?'

'I am a knight. I will do what is necessary in the course of battle,'

'Of course you will. Except you're not a knight really, are you? I mean you have the title, you have the training, you're clearly bloodthirsty' he sounded excited at this last word. 'But you have never entered a tournament, never fought in battle, am I right?'

Guy burned at his words, the harsh truth of his situation stung. 'Yes, my Lord,' he said gruffly, clenching his fist behind his back.

'Good, good,' Vaisey said with some excitement. 'This anger, we can use it, oh yes.' He seemed to speak more to himself than Guy. He spun on his heel, motioned for Guy to sit and the turned to face Guy as he re-seated himself. 'Now Gisborne – it is ok if I dispense with the Sir isn't it?' he chuckled to himself, Guy nodded incrementally, he didn't appear to be asking a question, merely stating his preferred mode of address. 'Yes, Gisborne, I have a proposition for you. How would you like to enter a tournament?'

'Very much so, my Lord,' he answered, now sensing where this was heading and feeling a surge of excitement.

'Good, because I have entered you in one in Paris in three weeks time. You will fight under my colours, of course, and if you do well you can join me in England.'

'Thank you, I would be honoured to fight.' He paused; 'England?' Guy was shocked at his proposition.

'After I saw you yesterday I sought out your master, he told me all about you, Gisborne. The orphaned boy who is desperate for restore his family's honour. Whilst you were carousing with your tart, I learnt your secrets.' Vaisey's eyes once again bored into Guy. Guy gripped the arm of the chair, he was furious with Pierre gossiping about him, yet at the same time excited by the stranger's interest in him.

'Pierre is a good man, but shockingly indiscreet once he's had a few goblets of wine,' Vaisey laughed to himself. Guy swallowed again, his mouth horribly dry, he really didn't know what to say to this.

'I realised then that you could be just what I'm looking for. I am an ambitious man, like you. I intend to secure power, I mean real power. King Henry has promised me a shire when one becomes available, but there is work to be done in the King's name, enemies he needs protecting from. An opportunity for a man like you.'

'Yes, my Lord. I would be honoured to serve the King,' Guy was thrilled, he could barely believe the offer than was being made to him. His stomach flipped with excitement, then sank, he remembered Isabella. 'I have a sister, my Lord, she is my charge, I must make provision for her keep,'

'I know you have a sister. Isabella? She is seventeen, am I right?' Guy nodded. 'You have not sought a husband for her?'

'I do not have the connections or money to secure a suitable match, my Lord, though in time it is my intention . . .' Vaisey clapped his hand on Guy's shoulder.

'Do not worry, my dear boy, I can help you there. I have a cousin of a cousin, he is looking for a wife,' Vaisey waved away Guy's concerns for Isabella with a dismissive hand. Guy goggled at him, he didn't know what to make of this stranger who seemed so keen to help him.

'Now, my friend, let me explain what you will do for me and I'll tell you what I will do for you. If all goes well we will be a partnership. Isn't that nice?' Vaisey laughed to himself again as Guy settled down and began to listen to Vaisey's plans.


	3. Chapter 2

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey, Isabella ****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. **

Chapter 2

It had not taken Guy long to decide to take up this offer, he had nothing and nobody anywhere else and Vaisey was offering a future, for him and Isabella. It had seemed like a good choice, but really like so much in Guy's life, was no choice at all.

They had swiftly left Orleans and joined Vaisey to travel to Paris. Apart from a fond farewell with Lucille Guy left without fanfare, he was always an outsider amongst his peers, and since his injury to Roger of Belvoir, persona non grata. Nobody was sorry to see him leave.

They travelled at a leisurely pace, staying in the best accommodation to be had, eating and drinking well. Vaisey paid for everything. Guy felt duty bound to offer some kind of service in return for this generosity so he always made sure Vaisey's horse was groomed and saddled, his goblet filled with wine, his clothes laid out each morning. This seemed to satisfy Vaisey, though he never said anything.

Vaisey spent hours outlining his plans for Guy and himself, including where they would obtain armour and weaponry for Guy. He took little interest in Isabella and often indicated to Guy they needed to talk alone, he assured Guy that women found talk of politics and power boring. Guy wasn't sure if that was true in this case, but was keen to oblige his new benefactor and ensured Isabella made herself scarce after their evening meal.

From what Vaisey told him it seemed Guy would enter a tournament in Paris, for prestige for Vaisey and prize money for Guy. He would then return to London with Vaisey and take charge of his armed men; Vaisey described them as 'imbecile yeomen' who needed knocking into shape. Guy relished this job, he knew he'd be good at it. He would also help Vaisey with special tasks, appointed to him by the King. Vaisey was vague as to what this entailed, but Guy guessed it would involve silencing those that opposed the King, but could not be dealt with openly. He also suspected he would be the one providing the brawn for these little escapades. Vaisey was clearly not a man to be overly troubled by his conscience, but he was no longer in his prime and needed Guy's physical prowess.

Guy was surprised that he hadn't been shocked or disgusted by what was being proposed; he knew his parents would have been appalled. But Guy now felt coldness where there should have been conscience. He felt his soul was too weighed down already to carry anymore burdens. If this was what it took to restore his lands and standing it was a small price to pay. Besides, he reasoned that carrying out the King's will was hardly treason, whatever Henry's commitment to the process of law in public. They all knew about the Canterbury incident after all.

Vaisey had also talked at some length about the tangled politics and relations of the Plantagenet family. Guy hadn't really been interested in that, to Vaisey's obvious frustration. He didn't really care who was King, they all sounded as bad as each other in different ways. But he listened nonetheless, especially when Vaisey talked about power, the power he had and the power Guy would have if his plans succeeded.

* * *

><p><em>An Inn near Paris<em>

Guy was once again listening to Vaisey talk about the great feud between King Henry and Queen Eleanor. As he understood from Vaisey's long, wine fuelled lectures on the subject, the elderly King Henry favoured his younger son, John, but the elder son, Richard was to succeed. The problem for Vaisey and other nobles, so he was told, was that Richard had never been to England, had no interest in it whatsoever and was intent on crusading in the Holy Land under the Pope's banner. He was also heavily influenced by his mother, Eleanor, and her court in Aquitaine. Eleanor hated her husband and Vaisey said that Richard and John, along with England and most of France, were being used as pawns in their parents' epic and bitter feud.

They had arrived yesterday and spent the day resting. Guy was therefore less tired and bored than usual and starting to take more of an interest. It had been a good day, no travelling and he'd ordered new clothing to be made for him that morning. He had chosen a black leather doublet and overcoat, Isabella had not been keen on his choice, but more importantly to Guy, Vaisey had approved. And paid. Now they were in comfortable lodgings, well fed and planning for the future. A more promising future for himself and Isabella than he could have ever imagined a few short weeks ago.

'Did you know the King locked his wife in a tower once?' Vaisey asked with a smile, Guy shook his head. 'You really have missed out on the gossip stuck in France haven't you? Ah, I do love a marital tiff, spices things up at court!' Guy smirked, he could imagine it did.

'The question for you and I though, is how do we profit from it all? Princes and Kings will do what they will; they care as little for their nobles as they do the peasants. But they need us, to collect taxes and hold the shires for them. We need to make sure that when the time is right we are the ones that profit from their squabbles. Let the idealists sing and shout, at the end of the day it is about power, Gisborne.'

Vaisey was fond of repeating these words or words of a sort. On this occasion Isabella had gone to bed early and Vaisey had brought a jug of wine to Guy's room and they talked into the night. Vaisey seemed to be finally getting round to explaining how the tangled politics of the Plantagenet's could benefit Guy, this both pleased and interested him.

'Richard will spend all his time fighting the Turks; he will use England as his personal bank account. He doesn't even care to secure his succession, refuses all matches, even those his mother makes.' Vaisey was in full flow, goblet of wine in one hand, whilst he fiddled with the handle of his dagger in the other. 'Richard will let the Pope fuck the lot of us. John at least will fuck us personally, which means we have a chance to influence him. To gain favour. And as you know favour means power and wealth.'

Vaisey had poured Guy more wine and continued, pleased than he held the younger man's attention with interest for once and also pleased Guy was only interested when he could see benefit to himself. Vaisey had no time for idealists and dreamers. He chuckled to himself, as he was want to do.

'You know, Guy, you could go far. I was travelling through Orleans when I heard about Pierre and his band of little knights, I'd been thinking of hiring someone to fight under my banner in these silly tournaments. Never thought I'd find someone with such fire in their belly though. No, you stood out a mile amongst those pampered brats.'

'Thank you, my Lord, I am very much looking forward to the tournament in Paris.' Guy's chest swelled with the thought of proving himself, and pride at these word of praise. His father also used to say he would be a fine knight, had the makings of a great warrior.

'Yes, I'm sure you are, chance to prance about and show off, have the local sluts flinging themselves at you,' Vaisey laughed, 'Tournaments are a silly waste of time to please pampered princes and vain knights. The real battles, the real fights, you need more than a lance and sword for. Politics, Gisborne!' Vaisey banged his goblet on the table and poured more wine. Guy groaned inwardly. He was sick of hearing about politics, he wanted to hear about how he was going to get rich instead and his thoughts strayed to the serving girl downstairs with red hair and pert breasts.

'Not interested huh? Think it doesn't affect you?' Vaisey leaned towards Guy menacingly and put on a childish voice: 'Doesn't affect the poor little abandoned knight, Sir Guy of Gisborne, and his ever so pretty, but ever so poor little sister?'

Guy swallowed and tried to keep his face impassive as Vaisey barked: 'a clue, it does!'

Guy cast his eyes towards the floor and recoiled. Vaisey rose from his seat and stood behind Guy, he leaned down and grasped his shoulders, spoke quietly in his ear, as his hands gently kneaded Guy's shoulders, which he continued to hold rigid.

'Your father went on a crusade, the Holy Warrior, bravely defending Jerusalem from the infidel, absolved of his sins by the good Pope himself. You were proud were you not? Boasted no doubt about your valiant daddy, off making kebabs out of foreigners - that's an eastern dish by the way, Gisborne. The noble Sir Roger of Gisborne.'

Guy's face was grim, his gritted his teeth. That was exactly how it had been. Vaisey seemed to be able to see into his very soul. It was unnerving.

'But what happened to daddy? Did he come back the hero? Did he have the love of the people? Was his wife waiting with a warm heart and warm bed?'

Vaisey's lips were so close to Guy's cheek they were almost touching as he softly spoke his next words.

'No, he lost everything, he came back to find his wife in another man's bed, his lands confiscated and he was cast out. As a leper. Wasn't he, Guy?'

Guy jerked to his feet, his wine flew out of his hand and splashed over the floor. 'How do you know that?' he demanded, cold fury in his voice. He couldn't have found out from Pierre, Guy hadn't told him. He hadn't told anyone. The only person in the whole of France who knew about his parents was Isabella and he was sure even she didn't know the full truth about Malcolm Locksley and their mother. Guy's hand was on his sword hilt.

Vaisey smiled, he was entirely unmoved by Guy's outburst, despite the fact that Guy was glaring at him murderously.

'Sit down, Guy,' Vaisey sounded as if he was dealing with a stroppy child, not a strong man, who was holding his sword and losing his temper. Guy breathed deeply and tried to control himself. Eventually he grudgingly obeyed. Vaisey put his finger tips together and looked at Guy intently as he spoke.

'About five years ago I was touring the northern counties, on behalf of King Henry, visiting nobles, checking all was well, that there weren't any pesky lords shirking their duty, or taxes, to King and country. I stayed at Nottingham, tedious old fart of a sheriff there bored me to tears. I spent three days checking all the local families were as recorded, my clerk nearly passed out,' Vaisey laughed at the memory of the man's discomfort.

'It was all in order, most boring, no need for any floggings or hangings,' he sighed, as if reliving his disappointment. 'Until we came across the estate of Locksley, which should have been in the hands of Sir Roger of Gisborne or his sons and heirs, but was in fact in the hands of some irritating brat, Robin, Earl of Huntingdon, who was off gallivanting in Loughborough and wasn't able to meet me. So I met with the local bailiff, do you remember him?'

'Yes,' Guy spat, boiling with hatred, the thought of his lands, his father's estate in the hands of Robin was bad enough, reminder of the bailiff of Locksley was worse.

'Good, because he remembered you. I asked him to account for the change in ownership of the estate, and he gave me the full sorry tale.' He looked at Guy and Guy felt the anger burn within him, the shame of his family's dishonour seared his very soul.

Vaisey continued: 'When I saw you fighting with that overblown buffoon, I could see there was something there, a fire, an anger, the others didn't have. Then when your man told me about you, your name and where you were from, I realised, realised who you were. It stuck with me that tale of woe, I'm not usually one for sob stories, but I remembered that one.'

'Why?' Guy asked, curious as to what had piqued Vaisey's interest.

'Oh nothing to do with you!' he laughed at the suggestion and picked Guy's goblet off the floor and refilled it. 'No, that bailiff lied to me about the value of his holdings. He tried to avoid his taxes. Now when I found out do you think he begged for mercy from the good King's special representative? No! He tried to kill me!' Vaisey chuckled. 'A good move? No!' I rather enjoyed his death.'

'You killed him?' Guy asked, Vaisey nodded, laughing to himself at the memory. 'You shouldn't have,' Guy said stiffly.

'Shouldn't have? You weren't friends were you? And it was such fun, first I . . .'

'You shouldn't have killed him because I wanted to,' Guy said fiercely. Vaisey laughed again.

'Deary me, if it's killing odious peasants you're looking for, I can give you plenty of them, my dear boy.' He thrust the goblet of wine into Guy's hands. 'What you need to remember, Guy, is that it wasn't some poxy bailiff that caused your father's woe. Caused you to lose everything. It was the Pope, the damned crusades, taking men and even more importantly money, away from England to be wasted in foreign lands. Your father caught a terrible disease in that so called Holy War, he returned to find himself cuckolded. You will learn, Gisborne, that for all their arts and charms, women are the real lepers. Do not trust them.'

'My mother was seduced. She was not given a choice, she . . .' Guy spoke in a low, dangerous voice and Vaisey sensed he had gone too far. He said nothing for a time, just watched as Guy's breaths heaved in and out in a supreme effort at self control, one he appeared to be losing as his eyes stung with tears; he bit them back and gritted his teeth. Vaisey still watched as Guy covered his eyes with his hand then hurled his goblet at the far wall with frightening force.

'I know your mother was a fine woman, Guy, people told me that.' Guy knew he was lying and that his previous statement was what he believed to be true, but as tears still threatened to flow he concurred with Vaisey for the sake of keeping his dignity and that of his mother's.

He had made his excuses about needing to sleep after that. But he didn't, instead he had sat drinking the remains of the wine until the fire burned out and dawn's pale light began to break, he churned Vaisey's words over and over in his mind. He had finally fallen into troubled sleep just as the sun began to rise. He had dreamt of his mother and when had woke he realised he had been crying.


	4. Chapter 3

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey, Isabella****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. ****  
><strong>

Chapter 3

Guy had been shocked by Vaisey's revelation that he knew about his past, but also intrigued at Vaisey's ability to make sense of what had happened. He was the first person he had met who offered a slither of hope; an avenue for him to channel his revenge. Vaisey didn't blame Guy either; he had shown him that others were culpable. Guy had always carried a heavy burden, he felt he should have some how prevented it all: protected his mother, fought for his lands, stood up for his father. He had never thought about the bigger picture. Vaisey was right. If it wasn't for the crusades, for the Pope, his father would never have gone away, none of it would ever have happened. Guy was now more than happy to help Vaisey in his plans, not only to achieve power for himself, but to help punish those, both high born and low, who had been responsible for his family's disgrace.

After that night Vaisey had begun to talk about money as well as politics. He started to hint that if Guy made enough money he could challenge the ownership of Locksley in a sheriff's court. Guy could of course win prize money in tournaments, he would also be in Vaisey's direct employ and earn a living that way. But there was something else Guy had that might prove profitable too: Isabella.

'Do you know how hard it is to find a pretty young virgin these days, Gisborne?' Vaisey had asked as they sat with a goblet of wine each in their lodgings. Guy was seated at a table by the window, it was a hot day and he was starting to regret his choice of clothing – leather wasn't exactly ideal summer attire. Guy smirked at his remark nevertheless.

'In this place impossible I would think,' he said glancing at the serving girls, who were anything but modest.

'You're very wise, Gisborne, keeping your sister in her room. Virtue is a great asset that can never be recovered. Men prize it highly in marriage.'

'Of course, my Lord.'

'Would you want a woman who had already known a man?'

Guy considered, he's only ever slept with one girl who was a maid, the daughter of Pierre's cook. He hadn't enjoyed it, she had been so nervous that he'd felt inhibited and self conscious. He preferred the girls of the taverns, who knew what they wanted and how to please a man; he also liked women who would teach him how to please them. He thought once again of Lucille.

'Depends what for,' he said with a knowing smirk, thinking of the first time she had bedded him.

'Damn it, Gisborne, I'm not talking about your sordid little fumblings! I mean in a marriage!' Vaisey shook his head in exasperation, Guy was far too easily distracted by pretty women. Guy rearranged his face and considered again, he'd want someone untouched for a wife, yes.

'Of course in marriage it is a requirement, my Lord, without a doubt.'

'Of course it is. Your sister is a fine prospect. She is young, but not too young, pretty, she has good manners, high born, fluent in French, she seems obedient.' Guy raised his eyebrows at that comment. 'Ah, so she has more spirit that she shows, not a bad thing necessarily. You keep her in line then?'

'She wishes to please, my Lord, Isabella can be spirited, but she is obedient.' Guy wasn't being entirely truthful; she was obedient after he's threatened and bribed her. She could be charm itself when she wanted to be, but she was as moody as he was and far more manipulative. Guy often found his purse lighter after their conversations.

'Good. You know she would make a fine wife,' Vaisey stroked his chin, considering. Guy spluttered his wine.

'You wish to marry her, my Lord?' he was shocked; he had always imagined Isabella marrying someone young and handsome. Besides Vaisey had shown next to no interest in her thus far.

Vaisey laughed heartily. 'Dear God! No, boy!' he laughed again at the look on Guy's face. Guy was now frowning, he didn't see why Vaisey would find this quite so funny, Isabella was, as he had pointed out, a good catch.

'No, no, I'm not looking for a wife. But think, Guy, she can't stay with you forever. We will be moving in the corridors of power, what will you do with her? Is she going to tag along with you everywhere? No, she will hold you back.'

Guy sighed, he was irritated now, he knew this only too well. 'Well I can't just abandon her.'

Vaisey rolled his eyes; Gisborne could be frighteningly slow to catch on at times. 'Of course you can't, but think what we have just been speaking of. Guy, she would be a fine wife. Maybe it's time to look for a husband.' Vaisey refilled Guy's goblet and laid his hand on Guy's shoulder, 'A husband who will pay you a great deal for the privilege of marrying your pretty and pure sister.'

Guy swallowed, his brow furrowed. 'Sell her?'

'You're so crude! I though the French were meant to be refined.' Vaisey rolled his eyes.

'My father was English,' Guy muttered, Vaisey was making him feel stupid, something he often did. Guy cursed his parochial upbringing for showing him up again.

'Not sell her, no, no, my boy,' Vaisey leaned into Guy, who edged back as he did. 'A man who is willing to pay for purity values his wife, will care for her. Think, would you buy a fine horse and mistreat it?' Guy shook his head.

'And you have cared for her all these years, why should you not get some reward for the good job you've done?'

Guy considered, Vaisey had a point; he had done everything for Isabella since their parents' deaths. He had ensured she was far more comfortable than he was, and what had he got in return? She was affectionate at times, but never as grateful as she should have been. Still, Guy loved her, he was uncharacteristically tolerant of her outbursts and he spoilt her as much as he could, if for no other reason than he had no-one else to spoil. Much as he'd liked to bed them, Guy wasn't one to waste gifts on tavern girls.

'What do you suggest, my Lord?' he asked, his interest was now piqued, but he remained to be convinced.

'I could find her a husband, who would make you rich. She would have a secure future, a title, a husband with lands and position. Her children would be lords and ladies. She will have all she could wish for. You will have a decent sum to set yourself up and maybe challenge for your lands in Nottinghamshire.'

'She won't want to marry; especially to someone she doesn't know.'

'Guy, she is a woman, they don't know what they want.' Vaisey patted Guy's arm in a fatherly fashion. 'She is only lucky she has a brother who is able to make decisions for her. I have told you women are weak, Gisborne; weak creatures who leech off us and use their wiles to divert us from our path to power.' Vaisey held up his goblet and looked as though he were imagining himself in a more prosperous time and place.

'Isabella is no different to other women, she needs a firm hand to guide her, and you will not have time to supervise her once we reach England.'

Guy looked at Vaisey quizzically. 'You will no doubt impress King Henry and besides I will have plenty to keep you busy, my boy! No, no, your sister is better off with a husband. Besides the longer you delay the older she gets, no-one wants to pay for an old maid.'

'Do you know of someone? Who will make an offer for her?' Guy was seeing the sense of it, Isabella would have a comfortable life of her own and he would be free from the burden of her care and she was a burden, one he increasingly resented. There was also the money. Guy had never had money, he was excited by the prospect. He had too often watched others buy what they wanted; have what they wanted, when they wanted, whilst he had gone without. There was also the chance that a decent sum would enable him to try and win his lands back.

'Yes, a very distant cousin, chap called Thornton. He has been married before, briefly, wife died of a fever after a year. He now wants a new wife to continue his line with. I told him if I came across anyone suitable I'd send them his way. She fits the bill nicely I think.'

'Will he look after her?'

'He has position, money, she'll have great life. She will have a better time than you!' Vaisey laughed at Guy. 'Come on, Gisborne, it'll be no fun if you don't lighten up, we're planning a wedding, not an execution – though they can be fun too . . .'

'With respect, my Lord, she is my only family, she is my responsibility, I have to take this seriously,' Guy was trying to keep his voice even.

'Of course,' Vaisey smirked. 'I think we'll ask for two thousand crowns initially, might end up as slightly less, but I think that's reasonable,' Guy's jaw dropped, he goggled at Vaisey, this was far, far more than he had imagined. Vaisey observed his face as the amount of money sunk in and chuckled.

'So, Mr Serious, are you interested? Shall I speak to Thornton? He's in Paris.'

Guy considered, he knew she wouldn't like it at first; she had set her heart on being some kind of housekeeper for him, silly girl. But two thousand crowns . . . it appeared he was in a win-win situation.

'Yes, thank you, my Lord.'

'Excellent! Well done, Gisborne, you're making strides in the right direction! Now I think that calls for another drink.' With that Vaisey filled Guy's goblet and they raised their goblets for a toast.

'To the future, Gisborne.'

* * *

><p>So Vaisey had also begun to arrange a marriage for Isabella. Guy had been tasked with nothing more onerous than telling her and ensuring she complied. However, Guy had found the telling her bit a lot more difficult than it sounded, to Vaisey's intense frustration he still hadn't done it.<p>

It had come to a head on their second day in Paris, Isabella had gone to buy a dress for the tournament and Guy was sitting on his bed in their lodgings, his mood dark. He was thinking of Lucille, he missed her; she had been the only person who could lift him out of these black moods. She had been so cheerful and bubbly, so different to him. He missed fucking her too, especially now.

Guy was interrupted by Vaisey slamming the door shut as he entered. 'Gisborne, I was speaking to your little sister earlier.' He sounded angry. Guy looked up. He reached for his shirt and doublet, having shed them in the heat. He felt distinctly uncomfortable being half naked in front of Vaisey, though he couldn't put his finger on the reason why.

'My Lord?' he sounded fed up and it took some effort to keep his tone respectful.

'You haven't told her, have you? About her marriage.'

'I'm still not sure, I am grateful, my Lord, but she is very young.'

'She is seventeen, Guy,' Guy said nothing, 'You have met the man, he is willing to pay you. Think, with that money you can set yourself up, perhaps even make a challenge for your lands.'

'I don't know if I can sacrifice her,' he mumbled.

'Sacrifice? Pray tell me, Gisborne, what sacrifice will she make? She will have position, status, a title, her children will have lands. Excuse me whilst I weep for her! Gisborne, if you could get all that just by getting married, what would you do? Would you marry someone who would love and care for you, give you your heart's desires? Status, respect, money, power . . .' Vaisey was gesticulating and pacing the room.

Guy sighed. 'Yes,' he mumbled.

'Guy, I'm starting to wonder if there is some doubt, if that is the reason for your delays.'

'Doubt?'

'Of her virtue.' Vaisey spoke softly. Guy whipped his head up and his eyes were full of anger.

'Of course not! She is a virgin. There is no question of her honour, none whatsoever!'

'Good, I'm glad hear it, because Thornton won't pay for second hand goods. Now you tell her, she will thank you for it.' Guy nodded. 'Tell her tonight.'

'Not tonight, after the tournament.'

'Ok, but either you tell her then or I will. This deal won't be on the table forever.'

Guy knew it was a weak reason, but he wanted her to enjoy the tournament and have one last night in Isabella's affections before he shattered her world. In the last couple of weeks she had been full of talk of their future and he was sure she would be devastated at being parted from him. In truth he was distraught at losing her too; they'd only had each other for so long. But he knew it was the only way he could secure a marriage for her before she was too old to be a good prospect. Guy had convinced himself, with Vaisey's help, that any man willing to offer him money to secure her hand must hold great affection for her.

Isabella had no idea that the man they had met last week was in fact her future husband. He wondered if she would have been so sweetly disposed and deferential if she had. Vaisey hadn't seen it yet, but she had quite a temper. He feared for her in marriage, Guy knew men expected their wives to obey them; he had been far too indulgent of Isabella. He had let her argue with him as an equal. He just hoped though that marriage would make her more obedient and amenable.

Guy watched Vaisey stalk out of the room and settled back on the bed, removing his doublet again. He couldn't quite take in how much his life had changed in the last few weeks. It was all because of Vaisey, he had transformed his world. He had gone from being a penniless apprentice knight to the right hand man of an important lord with the promise of power and wealth of his own one day. He was indebted to the older man and deeply grateful. He was also gratified that his promises had thus far been fulfilled or even exceeded. Guy had learnt to expect disappointment and it made Guy trust him, despite his natural aversion to placing faith in anyone.

Guy found there were sides to Vaisey that were harder to deal with, he would brook no argument and made it clear that he was to be obeyed in all things and there was the side Isabella had termed 'creepy'. But Guy conceded to him, the promise of power and money was too great. Besides he enjoyed having an experienced man to guide him through the world, if he was honest he loved the attention, having been starved of a father figure since he was a boy. He was prepared to do whatever Vaisey wanted him to, Vaisey knew it and Guy knew that he knew it.

Guy had also learnt a great deal from Vaisey about politics and the ways of the world, although he sometimes felt that the older man was mocking him for his ignorance. He wasn't bothered by Vaisey's brutal, ruthless attitude, he had seen enough brutality himself to have grown immune to that. Guy had learnt early in life that you got nothing through being nice.

Nevertheless he found his obvious taste pain and suffering uncomfortable, but easy enough to push out of his mind, particularly as he promised Guy the chance of revenge on those who had wronged him. He was amazed by Vaisey's open contempt for the church though, he had flinched at first in fact, much to Vaisey's mirth. Guy had just never heard anyone speak like that. He felt incredibly guilty for even thinking it, but he thought Vaisey right about the Pope, the crusades and the wealth and power of the church. He just hoped he would not be damned for these thoughts.

Hunger and thirst getting the better of him Guy made his way to the tavern's bar, carefully avoiding making any noise as he left the room. He was not in the mood for conversation with Isabella or Vaisey, he just wanted a quiet drink and if he was a lucky a girl to cheer him up. Lucille was the girl he wanted, part of him hoped to find her leaning across the bar in every tavern they entered, her dress too low cut, her hair straggly around her face, a wink and smile for him. He knew he'd been too fond of her for his own good, but he was sure she had liked him. She had told him she didn't see other men anymore after they had been sleeping together for a couple of months, she had never asked him for money either. He didn't know if she was telling the truth about not sleeping with anyone else, but he wanted to believe her so he did. He knew he had been a fool for her, but that was in the past now, he wouldn't let that happen again.

Guy had returned to bed that night disappointed, he hadn't seen anyone who looked like Lucille, not even anyone who took his fancy. He had been joined by Vaisey and Isabella for dinner and excused himself for an early night. Tomorrow they set off for the field north of the river that would host the tournament. Guy was excited and nervous, but confident nonetheless. He hadn't done this for real, but there had never been a man through Orleans castle that Guy couldn't best.

He had been held back by his family's dishonour, by the Pope's disastrous crusades that had ruined his father, by Malcolm Locksley's seduction of his beautiful mother, by the treacherous people of Locksley, who had banished his father and disowned his family, ignoring his father's sacrifice in the name of God and the King.

Guy would have revenge. He had always promised himself he would. Now he had met Vaisey he had the means to extract it. Tomorrow would be the first step.

* * *

><p><em>Vaisey's tent after the Paris Tournament<em>_  
><em>  
>Guy stared at the roof of Vaisey's tent trying to ignore the sting of Isabella's ointment, he had finally lain down and allowed Isabella to tend a wound on his wrist. It was a shallow cut, a small nick his only scar. He flinched as she cleaned it, but then looked up and grinned at her, she returned his grin with one of her own. Their eyes met in the unspoken understanding that this was the first really good thing to happen to them since their childhoods. Isabella finished cleaning his wrist and bent forward to kiss his forehead.<p>

'Well done, Guy,' she whispered. 'Mama and Father would have been so proud of you.'

The smiles on both their faces were testament to his great success. As he left the tent Guy remembered his feelings on leaving that same tent that morning. He had been nervous and excited. He didn't know whether it was naivety or Vaisey's insistence on victory that gave him the courage to go out and do what he did. He had been at his best today; all those years of training had finally borne fruit. Guy had won the tilt, came second in hand to hand combat and won the horseback fight. He was at his strongest on horseback, always had been. He could hold his seat where others could not.

Afterwards he met Vaisey and Isabella, Isabella had thrown her arms round his neck, kissed his cheek, declared that she had always known he was the best. This earned her some jealous glances from a group of ladies who had been waiting nearby to meet this mysterious knight. Vaisey had been equally delighted, though to Guy's relief he refrained from a similar show of affection, content to jump up and down on the spot and tell Guy even he had not expected such a victory. He was delighted to take enquiries about the services of this newcomer and even more delighted to refuse all of them.

'You are destined for great things,' he told Guy, 'great things indeed. You will be a prince amongst men, this is just the start! When we go to court your talents will be made real use of. Oh yes, Gisborne, we will have it all!'

He seemed somewhat manic and wouldn't let Guy out of his sight; Guy found increasingly irritating as he was keen to spend more time with some of these ladies. He hadn't had a woman since Lucille and he was becoming frustrated. If he ever suggested finding a girl when they had been travelling Vaisey had dismissed it, declaring women to be a distraction from their purpose, which appeared to be plying Guy with wine and talking about money and power. Guy didn't mind wine and conversation, but he wanted some female flesh and soon.

Guy had eventually slipped away from Vaisey when he was rather unwillingly engaged elsewhere under the premise of getting Isabella to see to his wrist. Now she had, Guy approached not the sweet looking brunette who had been making eyes at him, but a brasher looking blonde, with a low cut dress and ample breasts. He found himself awkward once they were alone together however. Lucille has been right, he needed to work on his small talk. At least with tavern girls you just asked for what you wanted and usually got it. He hadn't a clue how to seduce a higher born woman, even if she was the sort of woman who would sidle off to a secluded corner with a man she'd only just met.

'Gisborne!' Vaisey called in a loud, hissed whisper, Guy could tell he was annoyed and trying to find him without drawing too much attention to himself. Guy sighed, not sure whether he was relieved to escape this awkward encounter or disappointed it wouldn't end better.

'I'm sorry,' he murmured, 'I have to go,' he went to kiss her cheek, but she moved, leaving him with the side of her head. He winced, she must think him an inexperienced fool. Why couldn't he just talk to her, charm her? Other people managed it, he'd been told plenty of times that he was handsome, but he had no words to match his looks. He could hear Isabella now too; Vaisey must have sent her to look for him too.

Guy hurried back to Vaisey's tent. He saw Isabella, she gave him a hard look then rolled her eyes.

'Where have you been? He's getting really angry!' she hissed at him.

'I've been socialising,' Guy deadpanned. Isabella started fussing about him, smoothing his tunic, she reached up and combed his hair back with her fingers.

'Socialising? Guy! Do you have to be so obvious? You are my brother for God's sake! Here, he's coming.' Guy sighed, she clearly imagined he'd had more success than he really had. She brushed his tunic again with her hands then quickly melted into the background, hoping Vaisey wouldn't notice her and she could listen to what he was going to say to Guy.

'Ah, there you are, Gisborne!' Vaisey strode in clapping his hands together. 'I hope you've not been enjoying yourself too much.'

'No, my Lord.'

'Good good, because we have a problem. Sit down and listen.' Vaisey seemed agitated and continued to pace even as he sat. 'The good knight, Sir Geoffrey of Boulogne, has had avoided a terrible injury Gisborne. You know the fool you knocked off his horse in the jousting?'

'Yes, is that a problem?' Guy was puzzled, he couldn't see how this concerned him and really wanted to celebrate tonight.

'He is an enemy of the King, an enemy of Prince John to be precise. He has funded Prince Richard in the north of France and plans to assist him in securing the south of England. He is incredibly stupid, but also incredibly rich. Do you think the King and Prince John want this idiot propping up Prince Richard so he can run off on some damned fool crusade whilst he hides behind his mother's skirts at home? A clue? No!'

Vaisey was now right in Guy's face, he leaned into his ear and then whispered. 'He was meant to die today, but Robert of Hastings has no balls. He couldn't finish the job.' Guy swallowed, he leaned away from Vaisey's wine tinged breath, even as Vaisey gripped his shoulders.

'Do you have balls, Gisborne?' he breathed into Guy's neck.

'Yes, my Lord,' Guy said quietly. He stared at the fabric of the tent and the draped banner outside; it was blue, with Vaisey's coat of arms on it. Guy wanted a banner adorned with the Gisborne coat of arms. He watched the shadows move in the candlelight. He had known this moment would come, the moment he was asked to do Vaisey's dirty work. He didn't think it would be so soon and he certainly didn't think it would be tonight, his day of triumph.

'Sir Geoffrey leaves in half an hour; he wishes to be in his lodgings in Paris tonight. There is a quiet road just outside the fields, we will wait and when he passes you will deal with it.' Guy said nothing, he continued to stare at the side of the tent.

'When we get back you are free to roll in the grass with wenches to your heart's content. Now get that tunic off, put your black one on and get moving.' Guy stood up and did as he was asked. He had forgotten Isabella was there until she picked up the tunic he discarded on the floor.

'What about Isabella?' Guy asked hoarsely, his throat was dry. Guy knew he would do this thing, he would've killed almost anyone for what this man was promising him, but now it came to it he found himself feeling sick. To kill in a fight, that would be one thing, to kill a man as he travelled unawares . . . it wasn't how he pictured himself as he had been paraded victoriously earlier that day.

'Isabella? Oh,' Vaisey had finally noticed her, his brow furrowed and creased in anger, he had thought he was alone with Guy, he hadn't intended his plans to be heard by anyone but Guy. 'Well you, Missy, can stay here and if anyone asks where we are you can tell them Guy has gone for another tumble with some bimbo.' Isabella turned her nose up and looked from one man to the other. 'I know, disgusting thought isn't it?'

'Guy?' she asked looking at him nervously.

'Do it,' he snapped.

'Guy, I don't think . . .'

'No you don't. You do as I tell you. Stay here and do as you're told.' Guy snarled at her viciously. His mind was set now and he was in no mood for Isabella's arguments. He knew tonight was a test. He had passed the earlier test of the tournament with flying colours, but a show pony was not what Vaisey really wanted. He really wanted someone who would ruthlessly carry out his plans and dispatch anyone who stood in their way. Guy hadn't been looking forward to this, but he knew it was necessary. Necessary if he was to keep in Vaisey's favour and restore his name and wealth.

Guy pulled on his black leather doublet and put on his belt. 'Isabella fetch my sword and dagger,' he barked. She stared at him for a moment before obeying and presenting him with his weapons. She saw Vaisey was already outside the tent waiting. She stood on her tiptoes and went to kiss Guy's cheek.

'Be careful,' she whispered. The she grabbed his arm. 'You don't have to do this, Guy,' she looked at him beseechingly.

'Yes I do.' He removed her arm from his, and held her wrist tight, twisting it as he spoke. 'Do you want to go back to being nothing? To having nothing? This is an errand for the King Isabella, I will be rewarded. You will be rewarded as my sister,' he let her go and lightly pushed her away. He watched as she turned and knelt beside the cushions she had slept on, crossed herself and began to pray. Guy was tempted to join her for a heartbeat. But he didn't, he turned and joined Vaisey in a silent walk through the camp to the woods on the edge of the field that surrounded the road to Paris.


	5. Chapter 4

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey, Isabella****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. ****  
><strong>

Chapter 4

The road was quiet and narrow, it hadn't been hard to find a branch large enough to obstruct the way enough to cause a rider to dismount. Guy pressed his back to a thick tree trunk and inhaled the musty smell of the forest floor. It was cool now and dark, the canopy shutting out the silvery moonlight. Vaisey was further in the trees, well hidden.

Guy senses had never been so acute, his hearing seemed to be magnified a thousand times. Each rustle and scratch of leaves and twigs setting his nerves on edge. He was as taught as a drawn bow string; a deadly coil ready to be unleashed. His hand gripped his sword hilt so tight he would have seen his knuckles had turned white had he opened his eyes.

Guy finally heard hooves approaching and abruptly halt at the branch he had placed across the road. He glanced at the narrow road, the rider was dismounting and cursing in French. Guy recognised both the insignia on his tunic and his voice. This was his man, Geoffrey of Boulogne. His breathing quickened. This was it. In a few moments the man on the road, innocently making his way home for the night, perhaps to a wife or sweetheart, would be cut down by Guy's blade.

Guy waited for him to haul the branch towards the side of the road. Geoffrey of Boulogne paused as he finished shifting the heavy branch, as Guy knew he would. This was the moment. Guy knew that head to toe in black he was near invisible in the darkness of both the night and the forest. He moved quickly and carefully, blade already drawn, if he was quick enough he would be able to cut him down before he even had time to realise he was under attack.

Guy was now inches from his target, the man was still unaware of his presence. Guy was breathing rapidly, his heart raced, his skin felt cold and clammy. This was the moment his future depended on, he must do this thing. Guy was momentarily aware that his anxiety was as much to do with fear of failure as taking a life. But before he could acknowledge the thought he raised his sword and brought it down hard, aiming for the back of the neck.

Geoffrey looked up just as Guy's blade swung through the air, his movement caused the sword to miss his neck and instead slash heavily into the back of his shoulders. Geoffrey's agonised cry pierced the night. Guy let out his own cry as he pulled his sword back. _Shit_. He'd missed the neck.

The man would die, no doubt about that, but not immediately. He would howl in agony and slowly bleed to death. Guy was now working instinctively, just as he had in the tournament, but those matches now felt like the games of childhood compared to this bloody, brutal encounter. He dropped his sword and pulled out his dagger. He grabbed Geoffrey's waist as he sunk to the ground and plunged the knife into his heart with all the force he could muster.

That had done it. He knew straight away. He held the man as he gasped and gargled his last agonised, bloody breaths. Guy flinched at the slight squelch as he pulled his dagger free before sheathing both the dagger and his sword and pulling the now dead man into the cover of the trees as he had been instructed. He then returned to the horse, which had wondered a few paces from the scene of its master's bloody demise and whacked its flank with the flat of his sword, sending the beast cantering along the road into the darkness. Guy watched it disappear before shakily dropping to his knees and vomiting onto the blood soaked leaves beside the road.

Guy panted as he wiped his mouth, knowing his must move, but rooted to the spot. He had killed a man in cold blood. It was sickening. He stared at the road, rapidly tapering into blackness and glanced down at the soiled leaves. He was thinking he might retch again when he heard Vaisey talking behind him.

Vaisey patted Guy's shoulder and pulled him to his feet. They faced each other, eyes meeting in the moonlight. Guy was defiant, lips pressed together grimly; Vaisey satisfied and proud.

'Well done, Gisborne. Balls indeed.' Guy thought he heard pride in his voice, he saw the glint in Vaisey's eyes in the moonlight. Yes, there was definite pride and for the first time respect. Vaisey held out his hand to Guy and he shook it. He then felt himself drawn into a rough embrace.

'You and I, Gisborne, we will be unstoppable,' Vaisey released him and cupped his face. 'We will have power and no-one will stand in our way!' He was fierce, elated and determined. Guy was no longer trembling and his nausea was subsiding. He found himself standing tall and proud as he replied.

'Yes, my Lord.'

* * *

><p>Isabella leapt up as soon as they entered the tent, she had been kneeling in prayer since they had left and her face was stricken. Guy stared at her for a moment then moved to the wash bowl. He unsheathed his sword and wiped it clean, then did the same to his dagger. Vaisey had now joined them, he walked right up Isabella.<p>

'Anyone notice we were gone?' he hissed at her.

'No, my Lord,' she stammered. She looked at Guy wiping his weapons and washing his hands and looked horror struck. She was rooted to the spot, desperate to go to Guy, but too scared to make a move in front of Vaisey.

'Good, perfect evening then!' Vaisey clapped his hands and poured himself a goblet of wine. 'Now, my Lady Isabella, will you join us?' he offered her a goblet. She looked at Guy for guidance. He nodded at her, she noticed his pallor and the sheen of perspiration on his skin.

'Guy, are you okay?' she asked uncertainly.

Guy had been wiping his doublet and breeches. He was feeling sick again as he saw the bloody cloth he had been using to clean himself and took several deep, steadying breaths.

'Fine,' he said coldly. He flung the cloth at her. 'Get rid of this,' he snapped. She caught the cloth and looked at it with disgust and stood frozen on the spot staring at him.

'What has happened to you?' she murmured, barely audible.

'What?' he snarled. Guy was on edge, his blood was still up, he was both appalled and elated. He knew he had sealed the deal with Vaisey tonight; he also had the sound of Geoffrey of Boulogne's dying gasps imprinted sickeningly on his brain and wanted wine to wipe them away.

He crossed the tent and stood close to her, towering over her and causing her to cower.

'Have a drink,' he hissed at her; he laid his hand on her shoulder. 'You will never mention this to anyone, ever. Including me.' His hand gripped her hard. 'Understand?'

'Yes,' she said swallowing down tears. She let herself be guided to a chair and gingerly took the goblet from Vaisey and took a sip as Guy watched her. Only when the men turned their backs to her to engage in their private conversation did she allow silent tears to fall, tears for her brother, for his innocence.

* * *

><p>Guy had drank his fill with Vaisey before having his goblet snatched away, with words of warning about getting drunk, and joined him at the main celebrations. The party was in full swing and the wine was flowing liberally. He had allowed Isabella to come, not having the energy for an argument, but left her in the corner. She had sat sadly alone, not allowed to speak to any of the men, shunned by the women she hadn't been introduced to, ignored by Vaisey and forgotten by Guy. He was off looking smug as he stood behind Vaisey being introduced and feted, she hated the way some of the ladies eyed him. She hated even more the way Vaisey showed off his pet. <em>Lapdog,<em>she thought, though perhaps attack dog was now more apt.

They had finally retired in the early hours, Vaisey had started snoring immediately. Guy couldn't sleep, his mind was buzzing, so much had happened. He had fought and won in the tournament, he was the chivalrous knight. He was also the backstabber, the assassin. The man who would get his hands dirty. The man with the balls to do it, he thought grimly.

_Murderer_. The word echoed in his mind. _You have been for a long time Guy, remember the fire?_

Why didn't he feel more guilty? Why didn't he feel the grief and shame that Isabella felt? He didn't know or much care. He had done what was necessary, he would do it again. That man was no innocent. Vaisey was right: he'd have done the same to Guy.

Guy's thoughts were interrupted by fervently whispered prayers; Isabella. He heard her Hail Marys through her suppressed sobs. He sighed and got up, he had been unkind to her this evening, wasn't he supposed to be enjoying one last night in her affections?

'Isabella?' he whispered kneeling beside her and taking her hand gently, in contrast to his rough treatment of her earlier that night.

'Shusshhh,' he stroked her hair back from her face and pulled her to his chest. 'It's okay now, don't cry,'

He always said the same to her: 'it's okay, don't cry,' regardless of whether it was. He didn't know what else to say and wished yet again he was better with words, especially with women.

'It's not though is it? Guy, what will he have you do next? You could leave now, other people will patronise you now they have seen you fight. You don't need him.' Guy held her but said nothing. 'Guy, please, it's not too late.'

Guy laughed softly, shaking his head 'It is done Isabella. It is done. I have chosen my path.' He lifted her face to his and their blue eyes met in the darkness; he spoke very seriously and firmly.

'I will have our name restored, I will have our lands back and I will have revenge. You will be looked after, you need not fear. I have made provision for you.' She nodded and smiled thinly.

'There is nothing I can say to sway you is there?' she asked dully.

'Remember me in your prayers,' he whispered as he laid her down and gently covered her with the blanket. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and was about to say more, but stopped.

'Goodnight,' he said instead before going back to his own bed and letting sleep take him long before it took Isabella.

* * *

><p>In the years to come Guy often wished he had been kinder to Isabella that night. The next day Vaisey had given the siblings an early wake up call and casually in formed Isabella of her forthcoming nuptials over their morning meal. Guy would never forget the crushing look of misery on her face has he nodded in confirmation.<p>

The days that followed as they made their way to the coast were a nightmare. He had Vaisey in one ear complaining about her moods and tears, warning him no husband would put up with this. In the other ear he had Isabella's sobs and pleading, all of her manipulation and sweetness and her vicious accusations.

They had finally reached Dieppe on a rainy August afternoon. The rain seemed to turn to steam as it hit the hot earth making the air unbearably muggy. Guy had a headache and was tired after a day in the saddle. He wanted nothing more than to lie down in silence. He had left his horse with the stable lad and was making his way towards their lodgings to join Vaisey when Isabella accosted him.

'Guy,' she called, running along side him to keep up with his long strides.

'Not now, Isabella,' he sped up as she paused to hold her skirts above a puddle.

'Guy, please, you must listen to me. Please, you are my brother. Have I not always loved you? We have always been a team, you and I.'

'Yeah, great team, stuck in some shit-hole in the middle of France going nowhere fast,' he sneered at her. His head was pounding and he knew where she was going with this. It was a conversation they'd had before.

'I know it's not you. You are a good, noble man, like Father, you won't do this to me. It's him isn't it?'

'Isabella, you're getting married; you will thank me for it. And Father would have done the same. Do you think he would let you become an old maid?'

'Mama always said you would care for us, you used to say it. Do you remember when Father went away? Mama used to cry and you would tell her you would look after us.'

'I am looking after you.'

'Mama always promised I would be able to choose my husband. She said I wouldn't have to marry anyone I didn't want to.'

'Funny, I never heard her say that,' Guy said with a cruel smile.

'Guy!' she hurried behind him as he swiftly climbed up the stairs to his room.

'Ah, Gisborne,' Vaisey had appeared from a doorway. 'No room at the inn tonight. But thanks to me we are not in the stable. However, we are all in one room, tomorrow your sister will have her own room, but for tonight, it's happy families. So make sure she's not whining all night, it gives me indigestion,' he smiled at them both and went downstairs calling. 'I'm off to get a drink and meal, but you have sweet dreams, you look tired, Gisborne, must be all that nagging. She's not even a wife yet!'

Guy sighed and flung himself on his bed. The last thing he wanted was Isabella next to him all night.

'Guy, think, if I stay with you I can look out for you,' she continued, ignoring his reluctance to talk to her.

'I don't need anyone looking out for me and you need a husband.' She glared at him as he rubbed his temples and tried to block her out.

'What do you know of what I need? When do you ever ask me? You never ask me anything, you just tell me what to do and I'm sick of it!'

'Well no-one could accuse you of not asking,' Guy spat.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Isabella was indignant. Guy stood up and glared at her.

'You bleed me dry! Always asking for this and that, do you think money grows on trees? I have given you everything I can; I have gone without so you can have some bloody dress. I have kept you comfortable and well fed and all I get is a load of fucking grief!' he was shouting now, in her face, loud and angry.

'You are an ungrateful brat, I should have disciplined you more instead of giving you treats and the idea your opinion counted!'

'You don't mean that, please, please,' she laid a placatory hand on his arm and looked at him, her eyes pleading, her voice desperate. 'If you call this off I'll be obedient, I'll do anything you want.'

'Isabella! You are getting married and that is final, you should be on your bended knee to me, thanking me for finding you a nobleman who will keep you well. Keep you better than even I could.'

'Well that wouldn't be hard would it?' she hissed. 'Come on, Guy, what are you? A landless knight and now the lapdog of some creepy noble you barely know who only wants you to do his dirty work.'

Guy's hand was at her throat before he even realised what he was doing. Isabella carried on, her own rage making her heedless of his.

'You are pathetic, you think that hanging round with this Vaisey makes you a man, that you will get our lands back? If you had any courage in the first place we wouldn't be in this mess. If Mama could see you now she would hate you, she would tell you to leave me alone and –'

Whatever Isabella was going to say next was lost as Guy raised his hand and brought it crashing down on the side of her head. He was in a white hot rage, fury bubbled up from the very core of him. How dare she invoke his mother, the mother he had let down in life, and here was she, who knew nothing, saying he was letting her down in death too. Guy was screaming at her, anger, resentment and viciousness spewing forth.

'Don't you ever tell me what our mother would have said, you little bitch! You were a child, you knew nothing! You stupid, pathetic, little girl. You think you're like her don't you? You imagine yourself to be like her.' He spat the words at her full of resentment. 'Well you're not, you're a spoilt little bitch, you make me sick. Well you're going to fucking well get married and you will fucking thank me for it.'

Guy was trembling with anger, all his resentment about the responsibility he'd shouldered since their parents' deaths was surfacing. He was looming over her as she lay shaking on the floor, sprawled awkwardly and crying with high pitched sobs.

'I hate you!' she spluttered through her tears and pain.

Guy stooped down and grabbed her hair, jerking her head up, he saw a trickle of blood coming from her temple, he glanced at his ring and realised it must have caught her.

'You will do as I tell you and I never want to hear your ungrateful fucking whining again,' he snarled at her as she whimpered, her eyes now wide with terror and he shook her roughly. 'You think you can behave like this in marriage? You will learn some obedience, not all men are as forgiving as I am!'

This last sentence drew a small, mirthless laugh from Isabella, even as she fingered the cut to her temple. Guy was about to draw his hand back again when he felt a heavy hand on his arm, pulling him up with a firm grip. He spun around to look at whoever was that was staying his hand.

'Now, now children, play nicely,' Vaisey drawled pulling Guy to his feet. Vaisey had a dangerous glint in his eyes as they met Guy's. It was a warning; a warning to stop now. Guy looked at Vaisey and then at Isabella, curled up, sobbing at his feet.

Guy felt as though he had been doused with cold water. Vaisey pushed Guy away from Isabella and helped her to her feet, he put his hand under her chin and inspected her face closely, but spoke to Guy.

'Gisborne, much as I approve of you laying down the law to this little leper, I would remind you not to damage the goods before we seal the deal,' he shook his head at Isabella. 'Now you get yourself cleaned up my little bride-to-be and, Gisborne, come and get a drink.'

'Yes, my Lord,' Guy replied somewhat breathlessly.

Vaisey let go of Isabella and left the room beckoning Guy to follow. Guy felt as though he was in slow motion. He couldn't quite believe what he had just done; he had never hit her before. He quickly appraised the room and saw a bowl filled with water and a cloth beside it. He wrung the cloth out and gave it to her wordlessly. She was still sobbing, but said nothing. He didn't look at her face for long, but he looked long enough to see the defeat and sadness etched on it before turning on his heel and leaving the room, slamming the door on Isabella and her misery.


	6. Chapter 5

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey,****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**Notes: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have taken used info from series 3, but ignored the fact Isabella and Vaisey didn't appear to have met before. I have also made Isabella older than she would have been at this point (without wanting to give too much away) as I felt uncomfortable writing what I wanted to write about a 13 year old. ****  
><strong>

Chapter 5  
><em><br>__The South Coast of England_

Guy stood outside the little church by the sea in the sunshine. It was a perfect day for a wedding. Isabella was resplendent in a golden-yellow dress, her hair and face covered by an intricately laced veil. The scene was only marred by her hand trembling as it lay on his arm. He looked at her beneath her veil. Sadness pervaded Isabella's features and Guy wished at that moment to whisk her away from the man who stood waiting at the altar. But the course was set. He lifted her veil and smiled softly at her.

'Good luck,' he whispered, 'I'm doing this because I love you.' He was pained by her expressionless stare and bowed his head. He was sure she now hated him and longed for his sister to look upon him with affection one last time. Guy bent down and kissed her cheek, placed her veil back in over her face and took a deep breath.

'Shall we?' he asked. Isabella made no response, but allowed him to begin to guide her up the short aisle to the man waiting to make her his wife.

* * *

><p>The wedding had passed without incident, as they were still in Weymouth guests were few. Vaisey was the only guest on the Gisborne side, a few guards and servants on Thornton's. The wedding feast had been a subdued affair, Vaisey and Thornton the only ones who looked like they were enjoying themselves. Guy was polite, if quiet. Isabella was silent and looked terrified. Guy knew why. He knew she was dreading what would happen later.<p>

He had tried to talk to her about that; suddenly panicked she wouldn't know what was expected of her in the marriage bed. It was the most excruciating conversation of his entire life. She had quickly and blushingly informed him she knew the technicalities – thank God for small mercies he'd thought. What he wanted to tell her was that it didn't have to be painful, that girls could enjoy it, but all he ended up telling her was that she would be expected to produce a blood stained bed sheet. She had looked at him with utter contempt before bursting into tears. She had probably thought he was questioning her virtue he realised afterwards, as he cursed himself for his clumsy tongue.

Isabella's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as she was led upstairs that evening. Guy was left sitting with Vaisey who was chuckling.

'Ah, she'll be having the time of her life in a few minutes,' he smirked at Guy. Guy's face was like thunder.

'I don't find that funny,' he snarled.

'Oh be quiet, Gisborne, I'm not in the mood for your protective big brother act tonight. Have a drink and cheer up. You get paid in the morning.'

Guy snatched up the proffered cup and downed its contents. He picked up the jug and poured another, downing that too. Anything to drown out the thoughts of Isabella's wedding night. Vaisey rolled his eyes at Guy.

'For God's sake slow down, you idiot. I could do without dragging you to bed later.'

* * *

><p>Guy had slowed down a bit, but still ended up horribly drunk and even more horribly hung over the next day. His head pounded and his stomach lurched at the smell of breakfast. He had gingerly made his way out of his room after Vaisey had roughly shook him awake, babbling something about gold and horses. He made his way into the tavern and saw Vaisey sharing his morning meal with Thornton, both seemed in good spirits. Guy's spirits were rock bottom. All he could think was that this was the last day he would see Isabella until God knows when.<p>

It was an arrow through his heart; she had been the one constant in his life since she was born on a cool September evening seventeen years ago, her tiny lungs screaming down Locksley Manor all night keeping him awake. He had finally asked his mother to put her back in her belly so they could get some sleep. He remembered how she had held him as he stood forlornly beside Isabella's cradle, staring at the red faced little creature bawling inside it. His mother had smiled, then her tired face burst into laughter at her 'special little man', and his 'funny ideas.' Now Isabella was going to Shrewsbury with her husband and he to London with Vaisey. The last member of his family would be gone: he would be alone in the world.

Guy tried to push these thoughts out his mind as he joined Vaisey and his new brother-in-law; he sipped at some water trying very hard not to be sick.

'How is Isabella this morning?' he asked Thornton.

'She is resting,' Thornton informed him, 'she is tired after her wedding night,' Vaisey sniggered and Guy felt he was losing the battle with his stomach.

'Talking of which,' Vaisey said snatching a sheet from under the table. Guy was momentarily puzzled until he saw the spots of blood staining the sheet. Proof of her virtue. He nodded, thinking that if he opened his mouth to speak he would vomit. Vaisey then produced a small chest.

'This is your payment. I suggest you keep it close, Gisborne. It's gold not silver.'

Guy nodded again and snatched up the chest.

'Pleasure to do business with you,' Thornton smiled offering Guy his hand. Guys shook it wordlessly. 'She's quite a girl, I think we'll be very happy.'

'That is my dearest wish,' Guy said truthfully. 'Excuses me, Thornton, my Lord,' he nodded at each man. 'I must go to see my sister.'

He snatched up the chest of money and went back to his room. Opening the box he picked up a handful of coins and let them trickle through his fingers. This was more money than he'd seen in his entire life. He smiled as he picked up another handful. He then put both hands in the box and lifted them up, coins slipping through his hands, listening to the sound of them crashing into one another as he poured them back into the box. Guy was grinning from ear to ear. His nausea was rapidly receding and his heart lifted. This was what he wanted. Money. Lots and lots of money.

Guy was so engrossed in the money he had forgotten what he came upstairs for. With a start he remembered Isabella, he had come to say his goodbyes. Guy had no intention of a scene in front off Vaisey and Thornton. It was better that their parting was in private. He rooted around in his small travelling trunk for a spare purse and filled it. He was delighted this made no dent in the chest of coins. Picking up the purse he closed the chest, locked it and sought out his sister one last time.

* * *

><p>Guy knocked softly on the bedroom door, he heard Isabella shuffling around inside and waiting a few moments before calling her. Only then did she finally open the door. She was in nothing but her shift dress and a blanket, which she had draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose and uncombed, her face pale, eyes red, bloodshot and tired.<p>

'Guy,' she said as he entered. 'What do you want?' she was cold and detached.

'I came to see if you were alright,' he said gently.

'And what would you do if I wasn't?' she gave him a hard look before she turned away and looked out of the small window. 'My husband has seen you I take it? Shown you the evidence that I was a maid, I think you had some doubt.' She sounded satisfied at this small victory over him.

'No, I never thought . . . I never doubted you. That wasn't what I meant. I didn't know if you knew about how these things went, that was all. I'm sorry, I'm not good at explaining things.' Guy was desperately sad at her words, sad and furious with himself for letting her think that.

'Well I certainly know now. So, what was it you wanted?'

'Isabella, please, let us part as friends. I do not know when we will see each other again.'

'Well it's you who won't visit me.'

'Isabella, please. I will visit you as soon as I have our lands back. Here, this is for you.' He handed her the purse filled with coins and tried to put his arms around her. She took the purse and pushed him away.

'What's this? Your conscience? You already spent a fortune on my dress.'

'I have money to spend now. Now I have patronage and position. I would not see my sister wed in anything but the best I could buy. Come on, Isabella, I have always given you as much as I could.'

'Does your master know or are you being a naughty boy?' Isabella laughed humourlessly at him. 'I heard him carrying on at you about my dress.'

Guy inwardly winced as he remembered the humiliation. Vaisey had opened the bill for the dress; Guy wasn't intending to tell him how much it cost. Vaisey had shouted loudly, in a full tavern, about Guy's foolishness, mocked him for being tricked by his sister into spending half his money and warned him he'd never get his lands back if he was so proliferate.

'I can do what I like with my own money,' Guy said evenly answering Isabella's question, 'and I want to give it to you. Please, remember me fondly,' Guy said this in hope more than expectation.

'Thank you,' she turned her back on him and looked out the window. 'So, is this goodbye?'

'Yes.'

'Goodbye, Guy,' she turned and looked at him. There was a hardness in her eyes he hadn't seen before. He crossed the room and stood beside her. She defiantly met his gaze, refusing to show her emotions. Guy wasn't so restrained however. He put his arms around her and drew her into a right embrace.

Guy held her for a few moments. He wanted to say so many things to her; tell her that he loved her, that he was sorry for hurting her, that he would miss her more than she would ever know. But he didn't speak. He blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes and sighed. Isabella pushed him away and didn't respond when he gently kissed her cheek.

'Good luck,' he whispered before she turned from him and with a heavy heart he walked towards the door. As soon as the door was closed Isabella let her tears fall.

Guy's body felt like lead as he walked back downstairs. He wanted to turn back, to cry, to undo what had been done. He felt a sob bubbling in his throat. But he would not give in. He squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his throbbing forehead. He would overcome this, getting emotional was no way for a man of his standing to behave. Guy swallowed down the sob, along with his sadness, guilt and pain. He thought of the money in the chest, winning the tournament, the promise of power to come until tightness in his chest began to lift and he once again went to face the world.

* * *

><p>Thornton and Isabella had left as soon as their carriage was packed after breakfast. Guy had not seen them off. He had been tasked with organising Vaisey's carriage and a small group of guards who were to escort them to London and now under Guy's charge. Expecting him to see his sister off Vaisey had been surprised to find Guy in the stables shouting angrily at the stable lad.<p>

'You are useless! I could have done this in half the time myself. You expect guests, nobles no less, to groom their own horses?' He cuffed the boy round the head and roared: 'get out of my sight!' The lad scurried away as fast as he could, keen to escape Guy and his temper.

'Ah, winning friends and influence I see, Gisborne.' Vaisey drawled as he watched Guy take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down.

'My Lord, the foolish boy has completely messed up the saddling of the horses.'

'Well never mind, I'm sure you've put it right. Is the carriage ready?'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'And have you organised my guards?'

'Yes, we will ride at the front, four guards will flank the carriage and two will take up the rear. The rear guards are armed with bows as is the driver. I hold the lock to the carriage and the outriders have horns to alert us if we should fall out of sight. Only a fool would attempt to rob us.'

'Indeed. Well done, Gisborne.' Vaisey stared at Guy, appraising him. 'Guy, your sister is well provided for. You need not worry about her anymore.'

'I'm sorry, my Lord, I am a little out of sorts, she seemed upset this morning.'

'Well I'm not surprised, look at you, Gisborne. You're lucky I already like you or I'd think you quite pathetic. She was probably worried how you would cope without her. Really quite selfish of you.'

'Do you think, my Lord?' Guy's brow was furrowed.

'Yes. She seemed quite happy when I saw her off with Thornton. Quite in love in fact. So there is no need for you to sulk all the way to London. I've had quite enough hysterics in the last few weeks with her.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Oh and, Gisborne, do try and control yourself a little more with servants. I have told you there will be plenty of time to exercise this anger of yours, but I really don't want dead bodies on my hands, they do make an awful mess. Now is that horse ready?' Guy nodded, chastened by Vaisey's warning.

'Good. Let's be on our way. You and me have business to attend to, my boy.'

With that Guy led the two horses out of the stable and they began the journey to London. To his future.


	7. Chapter 6

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre-series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. ****  
><strong>

Chapter 6

_England Five Years Later_

Warwick Castle was a cold building, despite its thick, stone walls. The towers and hall were grand and dwarfed all the buildings in the gently rolling countryside surrounding the great fortress. The Earl of Warwick was a powerful man, he held one of the richest estates in England and had it in his power to make or break a disputed claim to the throne. It was with this in mind that Vaisey of Lincoln had spent the past three months cultivating Matthew of Warwick and persuading him of the merits of Prince John's claim to the throne of England.

As ever, where Vaisey went, so did Guy of Gisborne. Guy had been in Vaisey's employ for nearly five years. Guy was far more than a lackey and yet never an equal. He was a menacing presence, always a few paces behind Vaisey, a threat to be unleashed upon the people of Lincoln on the rare occasions Vaisey visited the seat of his title. He was part bodyguard, part confidant; part son, part servant. If Guy was confused about his role in life he made no show of it. He did Vaisey's bidding, organised his men, executed his plans, listened to his schemes.

Vaisey had been disappointed to discover that Guy's intelligence didn't quite match his physical prowess. He was by no means stupid, he wouldn't have lasted long with Vaisey if he was. But as a verbal sparring partner he was a disappointment; too sycophantic and dull in his retorts. He was a good soldier, however, and had that most important ingredient: loyalty. With Gisborne it was more than a code of honour, it was a necessity. He had nothing and nobody else and there was a hunger for power that over rode nearly all the morals and scruples he had been raised to hold dear. Usefully for Vaisey there was also a man brutalised, yet in desperate need of approval; angry and violent, yet also lonely, with a longing to be loved. In short a man so easy to manipulate it was almost no sport at all.

* * *

><p>Guy of Gisborne was pacing the corridor uneasily. He was waiting to be called by Vaisey. The King and Prince John were visiting the Earl of Warwick and Vaisey was deeply involved in the arrangements. Guy had very little to do with the King and Prince himself, but he was often in and around the court. A tall, dark figure never far from Vaisey's side, always ready to do his bidding. Vaisey was particularly anxious about this visit as the Queen would be present. As would the King's mistress. Guy had never met the Queen, but he had heard many lurid tales of her exploits. He had no time for it himself, he thought women should be obedient and loyal to their husbands, not gallivanting around stirring up trouble.<p>

'Gisborne!' Vaisey's voice rang out bouncing off the stone walls. Guy hurried to his master and joined him in a small room where he had been consulting with Warwick's Master of Arms.

'Yes, my Lord,' Guy said by way of greeting, he was apprehensive as he watched Vaisey pacing and looking furious.

'Shut the door, Gisborne.' Guy did as he was asked and waited for Vaisey to speak. 'Gisborne, we have a problem. Matthew of Warwick has uncovered a plot.'

'A plot? To do what?'

'A plot to free the Queen from her house arrest and take her to France and Prince Richard. Where she will assist him in securing more support and troops. It's bad enough he already has an alliance with King Phillip, but with Eleanor at his side he would command even more support. The King and Prince John want it stopped.'

'How do we do that, my Lord?' Guy was even more apprehensive now, the last five years had taught him that Vaisey's grand plans usually involved a lot of risk on his part and when they succeeded it was Vaisey who took the plaudits, merely throwing a morsel Guy's way. When they didn't succeed Guy bore the brunt of Vaisey's rage.

'The main plotter is Simon Beauchamp and his brother, Edward of Leicester. Beauchamp's wife, Margaret, is one of the Queen's ladies in waiting. Now Leicester must not fall, he holds the shire and is outwardly loyal to the King and Prince John. He merely wants influence under Richard. Beauchamp will be the one doing the actual breaking out, so it is he and his wife we must get rid of.'

'His wife?'

'Yes, Gisborne, his wife. What's the matter? Not going to get a bout of chivalry are we?'

'No, my Lord, but what am I to do about her? Surely she is no risk without her husband?'

Vaisey stopped his pacing and faced Guy, who was slouching against the wall looking fed up.

'Do I detect a note of dissent, Gisborne? A prickle of scruples? I've told you about them, dangerous things for men in our position. You do still want it, don't you? Power, land?'

'Of course, my Lord.'

'Then you would do well to remember that there are no innocent parties here. The Queen is a viper, her ladies are little snakes hissing in the undergrowth, waiting to strike with their poison. Women are dangerous creatures, Gisborne, I have told you this, we must beware.'

'I still don't see why we can't just lock her up.' Guy was agitated, he really didn't want to kill a woman. He had killed men, dozens. He was now inured to their pleas and cries as the realisation the end was coming dawned on them. But to kill a woman . . . it seemed worse and he didn't want to do it.

Guy had a strange relationship with women. He had adored his mother, but he also hated her for what she did, for betraying his father. He had seen that same capacity for manipulation in Isabella. Of other women he'd known, well they'd hardly been in the same league as his mother and sister. Lucille was a happy memory, perhaps the only girl he'd been truly fond of. He saw most women he met as objects, there for a specific purpose or his for pleasure. They were the serving girls he bedded after a short pursuit, or they were the possessions of their husbands and fathers, and to be treated as such. He didn't have an emotional attachment to any woman, regardless of his appetite for their charms, he'd made sure of that, he would not again spend months pining for a whore the way he had for Lucille. Yet, despite his distain for the lowborn, felt himself inadequate to pursue highborn women, he avoided them, still more comfortable with the tavern girls of the world even as he loathed himself for his inadequacy.

'Guy, I want you to get rid of the husband, make it brutal, make it bloody.' Vaisey's harsh voice snapped Guy back to the present. 'The King wants a message sent to the Queen and her supporters. The wife, well perhaps she can just stop breathing in her sleep.' Vaisey smirked at Guy knowingly.

'You want me to squeeze the life out of a defenceless woman while she sleeps?' Guy spat in disgust. 'No.'

'No? No? You are not in a position to say no to me!' Vaisey spat back. 'I have given you everything, if it weren't for me you would be still be stuck in France.'

'I do everything you ask of me my Lord, I have served you loyally and -'

'And you will do this too.' Vaisey motioned for Guy to sit on the only chair in the room; he moved so he was stood behind Guy and began massaging his shoulders. Guy found this both comforting and disconcerting, he liked the feel of strong hands kneading his tense muscles, but felt uneasy at the person doing it. But Guy had grown used to Vaisey's ways and let him continue.

'Guy, I know you have served me loyally and your rewards will be great. You are my right hand man, my loyal and brave lieutenant.' Vaisey moved his hands to Guy's temples, rubbing them gently. 'I value you more than any other man alive. Did you know that?'

'No, my Lord,' Guy rasped, he tipped his head back and allowed himself to enjoy the sensation as he basked in this rare praise.

'I know what you do for me, and for the King, isn't easy. You are special, you will go far. If we do this and please the Prince we have a great reward. I will be given a shire of my own. I will be in a position to give you lands of your own.'

'I have never killed a woman.' Vaisey stopped rubbing and considered Guy. He then spoke gently to him.

'Guy, why do you hold women in such esteem? What has a woman ever done for you? Your mother, God rest her soul, tore your family apart . . .'

'No,' Guy tried to stand up but Vaisey held his shoulders and wrapped his arms round Guy's chest, pinning him back to the chair.

'She was weak, Guy, she let you down. You deserved better. Your sister was nothing but a burden, an ungrateful one at that. These whores you dally with in taverns, the castle servants, they are unworthy of you. The ladies of the court, they eye you, but you shy away. I've seen it, you know they are but smiling serpents don't you?'

'I cannot court a lady with no land and no fortune of my own.'

'Yet you are so strong and handsome,' Vaisey whispered softly, Guy tensed, he felt a shiver down his spine and his skin crawl. Vaisey tightened his grip on Guy as he tried to move away. 'You will have them in time. I hope by then you will have learned women are weak and untrustworthy lepers and guard yourself against their wiles. You are too easily swayed by your eyes, Guy.'

'We all have needs, my Lord,' Guy said this wondering if Vaisey understood at all.

'We do, but, my boy, there's more than one way to skin a cat,' Guy frowned, he knew what Vaisey was referring to and didn't want any part of it. And yet without Vaisey Guy had nothing, was nothing. He had no other route to money, power and influence. In truth he had no-one else who even cared if he lived or died, no other attachments. All his knowledge of the world came from Vaisey, all his opportunities, and despite the man's obvious faults Guy was deeply grateful, indebted and unbendingly loyal. Loyalty was something Guy prized most highly; he prided himself on his loyalty to the man who had saved him from obscurity.

He would do this thing, just as Vaisey knew he would.

'Anyway, this plan of yours,' Guy replied, changing the subject as Vaisey held him still. 'How will we go about it?' Guy was relieved when Vaisey let him go and stood back.

'You will be part of the Queen's private guard when she arrives, not the captain, too obvious, you will be boring and attentive, melt into the background. You will have your eyes and ears open though. You are a handsome man, Guy, use it with these ladies in waiting.'

'My Lord?' Guy didn't know what he meant, was he meant to seduce them? 'What do you mean?'

'I mean flatter them, smile, be a gentleman. Middle-aged ladies always like a young, handsome, attentive gentleman.'

'What do I say?'

'Do I need to write you a script? Use your imagination, Gisborne! Surely all your whoring must have had some uses!' He sounded irritated now and much more his usual self.

'I don't really do much talking to whores,' Guy smirked.

'Well maybe you should. Christ, Gisborne, you could do with working on your charm at times!'

'Alright, what would you say? For example?' Guy was irritated at being lectured on charm by a man who seemed entirely devoid of it.

'First of all take that scowl off your face, smile. That's it, shoulders back, show your figure.' He tilted Guy's chin up, making him hold his head up high. 'Offer to carry things, open doors, the silly little fools love all that. Tell them they look charming before they leave for dinner. Make them like you.'

'Alright . . . and what then?'

'If they like you they will not be wary of you and you can more easily sneak into that vicious, little leper's bedroom and snuff the life out of her treacherous, little body.'

Guy said nothing, he didn't like the sound of any part of this plan and thought he'd be terrible at it. Killing men in an open struggle or stabbing them in the back was more his thing. Straight forward brutality. He was in his element ordering guards around, organising patrols and military missions, not being the bait in a honey trap, it felt degrading, like he was little more than a well armed tavern girl. It was women's work.

'Oh, come on, Guy, you can use all the charm you learn on your whores afterwards, you never know they might even charge you less,' Vaisey mocked. 'That doesn't cheer you up? Maybe if you're really good you'll be able to bed a girl without having to pay her at all,' he was laughing now at his own joke and the look of shame and embarrassment on Guy's face.

'I don't have to pay anyone, it's just easier.'

'No, no, course not, Gizzy.'

'Don't call me that,' Guy snapped.

'Aww, is poor little Guy getting upset?' Diddums.' Vaisey laughed again then checked himself, not wanting to seriously upset Guy at this juncture. 'Come on, Guy, let's go and get some food, we will discuss this more later.'

With that Vaisey stalked out the room, leaving Guy trailing in his wake, as ever.

* * *

><p>Matthew of Warwick was a powerful man, but if he resented Vaisey giving orders in his castle he hid it well. Warwick had seen the sense in making an ally out of the man a long time ago and had to admit his plans had a certain panache, as well as a ruthless efficiency. Well most of the time. Warwick had listened intently to Vaisey's plan to dispose of the Queen's plotters. Not a bad proposal he'd thought, though he had his doubts about Gisborne's ability to charm the Queen's companions. Warwick saw Gisborne as an effective soldier, ruthless lieutenant and brilliant horseman. But he had found his social skills somewhat lacking, despite Vaisey's assurances. He didn't quite understand why Vaisey was so keen on having him around, good at his job yes, but did he really need a dark, leather-clad shadow everywhere he went? Gisborne was unswerving loyal and obedient though and, Warwick mused, those were qualities hard to come by in any man, nevermind a knight, especially when you asked of a man what Vaisey did.<p>

Warwick watched from the battlements as the royal carriages approached. First the King's, then Prince John's and finally after the men's retinues had passed, the Queen's. Warwick was pleased to see Gisborne was part the guard he had given them on entry to the city. Satisfied he turned from his vantage point and headed down to the court yard to greet his royal guests. Happy as he was to defer to Vaisey on matters on planning, he was damned if he was going to let the man take credit for his hospitality.

* * *

><p>Guy's day had been a long one; up before dawn, organising the guard for the Queen and installing himself in their midst. They had met the royal convoy just outside the city and accompanied it on the short journey to the castle. Guy had then spent the afternoon making sure the Queen's needs were attended to. He had not personally spoken to her yet, but took orders from her imperious ladies in waiting, Margaret Beauchamp and Joan of Leicester. Both were French, Joan's marriage had brought her to England, both spoke very little in the way of English and both were severely trying his patience. He had seen Vaisey but once, when he had he was busy congratulating himself on his cleverness as Guy spoke French like a native. <em>You'd think he'd taught me<em>, Guy had thought resentfully.

'It'll make them trust you all the more, tell them your mother was French,' Vaisey had suggested. Guy stiffened. He never talked of his family.

'I'll tell them my first whore was French too,' he sneered. Vaisey laughed, but only briefly, before grabbing Guy's collar and shoving him against the wall.

'Don't you fuck this up, Gisborne,' he hissed dangerously. 'You play your part and be charm its-fucking-self or I will personally see to it that you cannot charm any lady ever again, do you understand? If you can do this I will know, finally know, that you are truly worthy. You will be welcomed into the inner sanctum; you will sit at my right hand and share in everything.'

Guy sighed, Vaisey was always making promises like this. They were fulfilled. To a point. Vaisey made him do a lot of running to take a small step forward. And yet, Guy was respected, in charge of all the armed men under Vaisey's jurisdiction as the Earl of Lincoln and put in charge of the carrying our of many of Prince John's personal orders. His own coffers had swelled considerably and he commanded respect for his skills as a soldier, if not his elevated position as Vaisey's right hand man, thereby drawing him into the circle of the Prince. Vaisey had been good for Guy, there was no denying it.

'Yes, my Lord,' was, as ever, Guy's response before he returned to the Queen, ready to do whatever it took.


	8. Chapter 7

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have only let historical fact get in the way when it suits me!****  
><strong>

**WARNING: SOME NON-CON**

Chapter 7 

_Outside the Queen's chambers at Warwick Castle_

Guy found the task of flattery and fawning easier than he thought as the days passed. He'd had plenty of practice with Vaisey, he thought ruefully. He had decided against trying to use his charms as Vaisey suggested, knowing he'd be terrible at it. Instead he had been attentive and efficient, which was working far better in his opinion.

'You are too kind, Sir Guy,' Lady Joan simpered, as he assured her he would stand guard outside the Queen's chambers instead of John's guards. Guy smiled silently, he watched her smooth her dress and push a strand of her greying hair back under her elaborate headdress.

'Her Highness is most grateful for your care for her person.'

'Not at all,' he said with another smile as she returned to the Queen's chambers. Guy wondered what they did all day, these women, when their husbands and children were away. Embroidery perhaps? That would be preferable to plotting at least. For the first time it occurred to him that life must be quite boring for an intelligent, high born woman. He found himself fleetingly thinking of Isabella, was she bored? Or did she have a brood of children to chase after and not a moment to think? He banished the thought. He could not think of his sister, it made him unbearably sad.

Guy stood outside the Queen's rooms and tried to think of other matters. He was trying to listen, both to distract himself and to gather information as Vaisey had ordered him to. Luckily today the door had been left slightly ajar, giving him better access to their conversation.

'Your Highness, how is your headache this evening?' Guy heard Lady Joan ask.

'Somewhat improved. Now tell me, what has your husband learned? When am I to be free?' Eleanor spoke in an imperious tone, but Guy could make out the desperate edge in her voice. He suspected that she had hoped to be half way to France by now.

'He has to be careful, Ma'am. The King and Prince have many friends here, eyes and ears everywhere.' Joan's voice was intended to placate and sooth her mistress. Guy knew the tone of voice well, he often used it himself with Vaisey.

'This much I already know,' Eleanor replied.

'But he does think that we will be able to take advantage of the jousting the King has requested tomorrow. The men will all be occupied and the castle guard will be protecting the King and Prince out in the open. This means you will be relatively unguarded. We can drug the guards Warwick has provided and disguise you.'

'Disguise me?'

'As a servant, Ma'am. I'm so sorry to degrade your person, but needs must. Dressed as you are, you will hardly escape notice.'

'Of course. The King still plans to take _her_as his companion tomorrow?'

'Yes, I'm afraid so, Ma'am,' Joan sounded dejected, as though it was her grief, not Eleanor's. Guy knew they were speaking of King Henry's mistress, who he was flaunting at his side, whilst Eleanor was heavily guarded in her luxurious prison.

'You sent a message to my son? What says John of this outrage?'

'I'm sorry, Ma'am, but the Prince was unmoved.'

'Unmoved by my plight, unmoved by his own mother! The boy has no heart, God forbid he becomes king; he is as heartless as he is foolish. If his father wasn't so wrapped up in his jealousy of Richard he would see it, he only favours John because it makes him shine the brighter. God knows, he needs it these days.'

Guy's heart was beating a little faster; he had overheard the Queen's plan. Tomorrow they would use the furore that would surround the jousting to mount an escape. Vaisey would no doubt be delighted to discover the details. But it also meant Guy would no longer be able to put off the moment he must act.

'Joan, I will retire early tonight. Who is standing guard tonight?'

'Sir Guy of Gisborne, Ma'am. He is a knight that Warwick has provided for your security. The tall, dark haired one.'

'I know that name,' another voice piped up, Lady Margaret, who had hither to been silent. 'I am sure I know that name . . . Gisborne.'

'Perhaps you have just spent too much time looking at his handsome face,' the Queen said, an amused tone in her voice, breaking the tension that had been present as they discussed the plans for Eleanor's escape.

'Ma'am!' Margaret replied, clearly embarrassed as the other two women laughed.

'Margaret, you always were a meek one, but don't tell me you haven't noticed. I may be as old as the hills, but these eyes still work,'

'Of course, Ma'am. But I am certain I have come across that name before. But perhaps not, perhaps as you say.'

Guy was now blushing furiously, he hated hearing ladies talk like that, especially about him, and even more so when it proved Vaisey's point. The door was pushed shut as the ladies continued to laugh, leaving Guy to his own embarrassed silence, with nothing to think about but how to act on what he had heard.

* * *

><p>Guy had stood guard for many hours, his feet ached, his head ached and he longed to sit and have a drink. Water, ale, wine, anything. He was finally relieved of his watch as dawn broke and wearily made his way back to the chamber he occupied, adjacent to Vaisey's, thankfully they did not have to share this time. He would not forget the last time he had been forced to share sleeping quarters with Vaisey, much as he wanted to block it out of his mind.<p>

It had been a couple of months ago, in Norwich, they had been following the King's court as ever. Guy had woken after a few hours sleep to find his master next to him on his bed, naked and clearly aroused. It had been a stifling June night, Guy had shed his shirt and breeches, sleeping naked, the thin blanket cast aside in sleep. He knew what Vaisey had been doing immediately. It confirmed what he had long suspected, but had been determined to ignore, about some of Vaisey's designs on him.

Guy, sleepily bewildered, had not registered what was going on, he had stared, dazed and confused. Only Vaisey's mistaken belief that his inaction was a sign of encouragement shocked him into action. The hand on his chest, slipping to his stomach and lower, the knowing chuckle.

Guy had sprung from the bed as though burnt. He couldn't dress himself fast enough. Vaisey had stopped him at the door, a knife in the small of his back.

'Going somewhere?' Vaisey had asked, a vicious and slightly desperate edge to his voice.

'Get off me,' Guy had growled.

'Get back to bed, Guy. Or run, if you think you have anywhere to run to. You have a choice, my friend. You can stay here, with me, who has given you everything, who cares for your every need. You have just seen how much I care for you.' These words might have sounded kind, loving even on someone else's lips, but in Vaisey's mouth they were nothing but a threat.

Guy had wanted to kill him. Humiliation was crippling him. He wanted to cry, to scream, to tear him limb from limb. But he didn't move. He stayed rooted to the spot.

'Or you can go back to nothing. I don't want that for you, you're too good for that, Gisborne, aren't you?' Guy nodded weakly. 'So, stop being silly and go back to bed.'

'What are you going to do?' Guy asked.

'Me? I'm going to sleep, Gisborne. You're jumpiness has put me right off.' Vaisey let the knife graze Guy's skin before releasing him. Guy had watched as Vaisey pulled on his breeches and climbed into his own bed. Guy had shakily returned to his bed, too shocked and ashamed of what had occurred to do anything but lie staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep, not daring to close his eyes, even long after Vaisey had fallen into a heavy slumber.

Guy had considered leaving then, as he had on other occasions when Vaisey pushed him too far in one way or another. But what would he do, where would he go? In truth he was frightened of being alone. Frightened of being poor and powerless. These things frightened him far more than anything Vaisey might do to him. So he had stayed and pretended the whole incident had never happened.

Now Guy was faced again with the prospect of doing something he hated in order to keep in Vaisey's favour. He felt sick at the thought of killing Margaret Beauchamp, he half wondered if Vaisey was testing him, seeing how far he would go. He could not see why she had to die. With her husband dead, as a traitor, she would be a penniless widow, her husband's lands confiscated by the crown. Punishment enough for a woman, who after all, was probably only acting under her husband's influence, he thought.

Guy had heard plenty of the conversation between the Queen and her ladies in waiting in the days he had been guarding them. They reminded him of his mother and her French maids. She had two girls brought with her from France on her marriage, they would chatter for hours with his mother in their native French, and doted on Guy. He had been devastated when the elder of the two, Alice, had died of a fever and even more so when the second, Catherine, also his nanny of sorts, left – abandoned him – to get married. His mother had never been as happy after losing her companions. She had nothing in common with the women of Locksley or Nottingham and Ghislaine was too beautiful and flirtatious for other women to like easily. When his father left to go to war she had become a quite melancholy. A sadness pervaded Locksley Manor and hung over all of them. That sadness had never really left him.

Guy slept fitfully that night, haunted by dreams of his mother and her maids, Eleanor and her ladies. They kept changing places and he was killing them. He would begin by stabbing the Lady Margaret, then her face would change to Alice's, then Catherine's, then his mother's. Guy woke with a cry and a start, in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tears streaming down his face. He had, in his sleeping mind's eye, just watched himself stab his mother to death.

* * *

><p>Vaisey was standing in his chamber with his back to Guy. Guy had just delivered the news of Eleanor's plan, as he had overheard last evening, to his master.<p>

'Excellent work, Gisborne. I want you to organise a small group of men to apprehend Beauchamp and dispatch him. You will of course try to arrest him, but no doubt he will resist and get killed in the struggle.'

'Of course, my Lord.'

'Then you will go the little ladies and when Queenie is sleeping pop a dagger in her little maid.' Vaisey sounded so causal, as if killing defenceless women in their sleep was like enjoying port after a hearty meal.

'About that, do we really need to kill her? Won't it just draw attention? And I might get caught.'

'You won't get caught and even if you do, so what? The King will thank you, not hang you.'

'I just think that if we were more subtle, if we- '

'I've had enough of this, Gisborne. You have been whinging about this all week, trying to find excuses not to do your job. I am beginning to think you weak.' Vaisey spun round to face Guy. Guy slouched back against the wall and sneered.

'I'm not weak.'

'Good. I don't want to hear anymore whining, I have enough on my plate with the King and that foolish Prince in my ear without you carrying on like a nagging wife as well.'

'I was merely trying to think of the best course of action.'

'Gisborne, do us both a favour and leave the thinking to me,' Vaisey rolled his eyes as he spoke, exasperated with Guy. 'Now run along and make sure your dagger's nice and sharp, we don't want too much squealing, not with the Queen next door.'

'What if she does scream?'

'They like you, she won't scream. Pretend you're going to give her a kiss goodnight,' Vaisey laughed at Guy's look of disgust. 'You can practice on me if you like,' if it were possible for Guy to have a greater look of disgust on his face Vaisey hadn't seen it. 'Oh, don't be a spoilsport, Gizzy.'

Any intended humour in Vaisey's words was lost amid the threat they carried. Guy was remembering that night in Norwich.

'What time do you want me to arrest Beauchamp?' Guy asked changing the subject to more practical matters.

'Just after noon, the jousting will start at noon, so everyone will be distracted. You can catch them in the act.'

Guy thought how much he would rather be competing than doing the dirty work for powerful men who wouldn't deal with their own problems.

'Who will be guarding the Queen when I am doing this?'

'Robert and William,' Vaisey said referring to two of his most experienced and trusted soldiers.

'Very well, I'll see you later,' Guy said flatly, turning and walking away from Vaisey, loathing every inch of the man and wondering how the hell he was going to do this. Some things were just too much, he had always wondered how far he would go for Vaisey and remembering his dream, he started to think he had finally found his limits.


	9. Chapter 8

**Characters: Guy, Vaisey****  
><strong>**Disclaimer: All original characters belong to BBC/Tiger Aspect.****  
><strong>**A/N: Set pre series, explores how Guy came to work for the Sheriff. I have only let historical fact get in the way when it suits me!****  
><strong>

**WARNING: DUB-CON**

Chapter 8

The arrests had gone smoothly enough. The trumpets signalling the arrival of the royal guests at the jousting were the signal for the Queen's rescuers to begin. They were also the signal for Guy and his men to act. Beauchamp and his two servants were poorly armed and out numbered. Guy had told his men to gag them and take them to the dungeons, as Simon Beauchamp was dragged, beaten and bound, between two of the guards, Guy had slid the knife inbetween his ribs. He once again marvelled at how easy killing was. You thought about it a lot before, the nightmares, the flashbacks of dying screams, they were tortuous, he had to work hard to block them out. But the physical act of putting a knife into someone was frighteningly easy.

Guy had used his curved claw dagger, a gift from Vaisey. He was fond of this particular instrument of death. He tugged it out, his hand covered in blood. He wiped it on the back of the dying man's tunic.

'A message from Prince John,' he sneered into Beauchamp's ear before walking away and leaving the disposal of the body to his guards.

Guy wondered how long it would take for him to die as he strode briskly along the stone corridors of Warwick Castle until he reached his own small sleeping quarters. He immediately washed his hands thoroughly and used some of the heavily scented perfume he kept beside the wash bowl. Another gift from Vaisey, a gift befitting a lord. Guy liked the scent, it was musky and masculine, but also clean and fresh. It made him smell like one of the men of the court. He was obsessive about cleaning himself after killing someone. He felt as though the scent of the dying man were upon him. He added more perfume than was necessary, such was his desire to blot out the stench of blood and death, more imagined than real.

Guy then cleaned his dagger, wiped the blade dry, and made his way to the Queen's chambers. It was now a familiar walk to the ladies who had come to accept him with grace, even if they didn't trust him entirely, Eleanor was too shrewd an operator not to suspect her guards. As he arrived at the tower she was held in he stopped and listened. He heard the sound of the joust in the distance, the oohs and arhhs, the cheers of the crowd, the blasts of a trumpet. There was silence in this tower, ominous silence. He made his way up the spiralling stone staircase.

Guy found the two guards asleep, drugged, as expected. He smirked at the naivety of the plotters, he once again started to feel admiration for Vaisey and his clever plans. They always came out on top, they were a good team; had yet to find anyone who could best their joint efforts. The man was a bastard, no doubt about that, but he had his good points, Guy mused. It didn't hurt to be in his favour, in fact it was quite advantageous. If he overlooked certain matters he was even good company at times, as long as someone else was the butt of his jokes. Just as Guy was starting to think less ill of Vaisey than of late he heard the ladies' hissed whispers in their chambers. Reminding him of what his task was.

_'Keep them indoors, they are not to leave, not for anything. Say you have relieved them of the drugged guards, you are to stay until the King has swept the castle. When the little coven retires for the night you do it. Got it, Gisborne?'_

Vaisey's orders had been clear and unambiguous. Guy took a deep breath and steeled himself. Now it began.

'Your Highness!' he cried. 'My Ladies!' Guy burst into the chambers, sword drawn, eyes flitting around the room, the looks of shock on the women's faces meeting his cold, blue eyes.

'Thank the Lord,' he sighed with false relief, seeing them all well. 'Your Highness,' Guy fell to his knees, facing Eleanor, but still some distance from her. 'Forgive my intrusion, I arrived to check you were safe and well. Your husband has uncovered a plot,'

'A plot?' The Queen's gaze pierced Guy. He cast his eyes down, hoping this looked respectful, rather than guilty.

'Your Highness, forgive me for bearing bad news, but the King uncovered a plot against you,' Guy raised his head to meet her gaze now. 'I was sent immediately to check on you, I arrived at your chambers to find your guards collapsed.'

'Dead?'

'I have not yet checked, my only concern was for your welfare, hence my intrusion.'

Eleanor walked towards Guy, he noticed that under her heavy velvet cloak, which she was keeping pulled tight around her, there was what looked like a dirty, woollen dress. He could just make out the hem under her cloak as she walked. A disguise. Guy felt inward satisfaction, he had been right, he had overheard the true plot, not a staged conversation as he was starting to fear.

'Sir Guy of Gisborne, is it not?' Eleanor asked coolly, holding out her hand. Guy lightly took her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her fingers.

'Yes, your Highness,' he said softly.

'I am most indebted to you.'

Guy said nothing, but bowed his head in deference.

'Gisborne is an English name, where are your lands?'

Guy hesitated, he was embarrassed, he had no lands, there was no Gisborne. The humiliation clawed at his heart. A reminded of why he was doing this thing, why he continued to attach himself to Vaisey.

'My father's lands were in Nottingham, Ma'am. But they were lost. I have no lands.'

'One can easily lose that which is hard won, I should know,' Eleanor replied, an edge of bitterness in her voice. 'So an Englishman, yet you speak like a native Frenchman. You are loyal to my husband and son, yet you have saved me.'

'It is my duty, Ma'am, and always an honour.' He swallowed, a pang of guilt. Guy wondered, as he had before, why lying was somehow harder for him to do than killing. 'My mother was French,' he added, answering the first question.

'Who was her father?'

'Guy of Blanquefort.'

'Ah, an Aquitainian!' Eleanor was evidently pleased at the connection.

'Yes, Ma'am.'

'You have spent time in France?'

'After my parents died I lived with my mother's sister, in Orleans, with her husband.'

'I see. Now, Sir Guy, will you be a brave knight and defend this old woman from your mother's homeland?' Eleanor was smiling now, she seemed delighted by the Aquitaine connection, perhaps Guy thought, she imagined it proved some kind of loyalty on his part. If only she knew: his only loyalty was to Vaisey.

'Of course, Ma'am,' he replied automatically, but his throat was dry and chest tightened, she had elicited more information about his family than anyone had in years.

'Get to it then,' Eleanor smiled at him, warmly this time. 'I shall be relying on your good Aquitainian blood to keep me safe, Sir Guy.'

Guy nodded and rose to his feet, bowed his head to the Queen and her ladies before slipping out the room. He closed the door lightly, careful to leave it open a crack in order to listen.

* * *

><p>Guy dealt with the drugged guards as instructed and then stood outside the Queen's chambers for several hours, watchful and thoughtful. His doubt was growing, these women were not dangerous, not violent. He heard them whisper, they were sad, dispirited, anxious. He heard Lady Margaret fret about her husband. Too late for that, he thought grimly. Guy felt a pang of guilt, not for killing the man particularly; if you got involved in such plots you could expect to meet such an end, Guy thought his own end was likely to be at the point of a sword, not the ravages of time. No, Guy realised his guilt was for the pain it would cause his widow. Why was he so sentimental about them, he asked himself, cursing his softness. He knew why. They were reminders of his mother; their voices, accents, little words and phrases they used, Aquitainian expressions he remembered from his childhood.<p>

They had also seemed to like him. Guy was seldom liked. He was feared, respected even, by his soldiers. Mistrusted by his equals, he was seen as Vaisey's lapdog, he knew that. And Vaisey, God only knew how he felt about Guy, there was obviously something there, but Guy knew deep down he was merely useful. Even the women he slept with, servants he had flings with, they may have lusted after him, but they too came to fear and dislike him, his temper, his moods, his coldness. A thought floated through his mind, Lucille, his French girlfriend back in Orleans. She hadn't feared him, she had laughed at his moods, kissed him and told him what he needed to hear. He found himself wishing for the millionth time that she was here now.

The hours passed and Guy was filled more and more with a coldness, a nauseous feeling that began in his gut and spread slowly throughout his body. He felt the shape of his knife heavy against his side. He never normally noticed it, but today was different, today he would use it to take the life of an old woman and for what? Because she was a threat? Guy didn't think so. Because she deserved it? Not likely, between the Queen and her husband what choice did she have, besides Guy had seen the way the Queen was treated, humiliated by her husband and son, he no longer blamed her for wanting to escape. Guy knew Lady Margaret was going to die because Vaisey was testing him, pushing him that final step, making him his man entirely.

Guy was so tense he suddenly realised he had missed several breaths. He gasped and shuddered. Night was falling, it would soon be time. Guy's mind felt detached from his body, he could see himself standing outside the Queen's chambers, hand on his sword hilt, back straight. The picture of a chivalrous knight protecting his Queen.

* * *

><p>There were three bedchambers in the Queen's quarters, the largest for Eleanor and two small enclaves for her ladies. Guy and one of Vaisey's soldiers were standing guard. The Queen had retired and her ladies had shortly followed. He could delay no longer. Guy told his fellow guard to stay where he was, the man knew Guy was on some kind of mission, but he daren't ask what, in fact Guy suspected he wanted to know as little about the whole thing as possible. Guy knew how he felt. He wished he knew nothing about this particular plot too.<p>

Guy gently turned the handle of the door to Lady Margaret's small bedchamber. She was asleep, her greying hair loose around her face, her lips parted slightly. She looked tiny, like a child almost. The bed wasn't large at all, but seemed far too big for this delicate woman. Guy could smell rose water, he noticed a small washstand in the room and Lady Margaret's dress hung carefully beside it. The perfume of the roses hung in the air, taking Guy back to another bedchamber: his mother's. He remembered sitting on the edge of her bed, his legs still too short to touch the floor, watching her brush her long hair out, splash herself with rose water and sometimes dab a drop on his nose with a smile. Guy had always wiped it off with his sleeve, thinking it a girl's scent as he screwed his nose up in mock disgust, this made his mother laugh.

Guy put his hand to his knife, his fingers began to close around the handle.

Suddenly he let go, as if burnt. No. He would not do this.

He looked at the woman sleeping – so peaceful, not knowing her husband's murderer stood above her about to end her life too. No, he couldn't, not this time. If he did this he would lose what little remained of his heart. This room was full of ghosts already; the rose water, the feminine chatter of Aquitainian women, his mother's ethereal presence whispered to him from this place.

Guy breathed a sigh of relief as he came to his decision. He would not kill the memories of his past, the short time he had been innocent and loved. He had to hold on to something, despite the cold, miserable reality of his present. He stood with his eyes closed for a moment, inhaling the scent of the rose water, remembering his mother.

Another thought flashed into his mind, pushing out the short lived relief. If he didn't do this Vaisey would send someone else, he wasn't sure who, but Lady Margaret wasn't safe, not here, not with her husband dead. Guy panicked. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

'Sir Guy?' a sleepy voice said his name. 'Sir Guy, what are you doing here?'

Damn, she had woken. Guy's eyes flew open. He was stricken, unable to move. What was he to do? Kill her and save his own skin, or run – but to where and who?

'Sir Guy?' Margaret asked again, more loudly this time.

'My Lady,' he whispered. 'Do not be alarmed. I have come to warn you. You must leave this place, it is not safe.'

'What? How?'

'Your husband has been implicated in a plot to free the Queen, you are also implicated. My Lady, you are not safe. Prince John's supporters have foiled the plot.' Guy spoke quietly and quickly. He was firm, but not unkind.

'Good God, Simon! My husband, Sir Guy, have you heard?'

Guy cast his eyes to the floor and shook his head. He felt that guilt again, a sickening realisation that he was a killer, a conscience he hadn't felt in a long time.

'I'm sorry, my Lady, he has been caught,' Guy didn't add that he had killed him, he wanted her to co-operate. 'You know what that means.'

Lady Margaret gasped, her hand flew to her mouth.

'My Lady, there will be time for sorrow, but now you must run.'

'No, I cannot, if Simon is caught then I must speak for him, the Queen . . .'

'No, my Lady, listen!' Guy was becoming angry now, she must do as he told her or this would be for nothing. 'There is a plot to kill you too. You must run, I will help you. Get dressed, quickly.'

'How do you know this? Sir Guy?'

'Because I was sent to kill you,' he blurted, his mouth working before his brain could think of a lie.

'And are you going to?' She sounded resigned, not frightened.

'No, I am going to help you escape. Because if you stay here you will die.'

'I knew you would help us,' Margaret smiled softly. 'The Queen and Joan, they said you were John's man. They were right, we knew what you were, but I knew you wouldn't harm us. As soon as I heard your name.'

'My Lady?' Guy didn't want to hear this, he wanted her to move as fast as possible. But he was intrigued.

'Gisborne. You are Ghislaine's son. She married an English lord, Roger of Gisborne. When I saw you I could see her in you, when I heard the name, I knew I had heard it before. Then when you spoke with the Queen I was certain.'

'You knew my mother?'

'She was my family. Her mother and mine were cousins. She was my friend, companion,' Margaret said with a wistful smile. 'She was so beautiful, she could have any man she wanted. We used to say she would be Queen of France. Then she met your father and no-one else stood a chance. She swanned off to England, I never heard of her again. I am pleased she had a son, she always wanted a son. Do you have brothers and sisters?'

'A sister, Isabella.'

'Ah, Isabella. She always said she would name a girl Isabella, for her sister, and a boy Guy, after her father, and she did. I am pleased, she was a good woman, Guy.'

'I know,' Guy only vaguely heard himself rasp the words. He was choked, he didn't want to be reminded of his mother and her goodness, not now, not in this place, where he was sent to do such evil.

'Guy?' Margaret sounded concerned. Guy rubbed his face with his hands, pulled himself together.

'Get dressed, fast. We do not have time. I will escort you to the gates and see you to the City walls. After that you are on your own.'

'Ghislaine would be proud of you,' Margaret said softly, Guy was thankful the light was too dim for her to see the tears in his eyes.

* * *

><p>Guy had turned away as she dressed, urging her to hurry all the time. He had frog marched her out of the tower and through the castle. No-one questioned him. His status was known, besides it was dark and there were few but guards about. Guy swiftly saddled a horse and helped Margaret into the saddle. He jumped up behind her and they rode slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, through the quiet town to the City gates. After an urgent and hissed conversation with the night watchman the gate was opened just enough for the horse to pass through.<p>

'Thank you, Sir Guy,' Margaret said as he went to walk back.

'You have nothing to thank me for,' he said grimly, thinking of her dead husband.

'I think I do,' she countered.

'Thank my mother, not me.' Guy went to walk away again, then hesitated. 'Where will you go?'

'To Northampton, I have a daughter there, from there I do not know. France perhaps, if I am lucky.'

'Do not stop tonight, ride until dawn. Do you have money?'

'Yes.'

'Guard it well. Here,' Guy unsheathed the long knife he had been intending to kill her with. 'Take this. Now go.'

With that Guy turned around and made his way back on foot through the dark and deserted streets, wondering what the hell he had just done.

* * *

><p>The next day was dull, cold and seemingly normal. After some shirking, Guy had decided facing the music could not be worse than thinking about it. He was wrong.<p>

Guy was in Vaisey's chamber. He put his hand to his cheek and touched it. Blood. Guy was not surprised, the pain was terrible. He flinched as another blow came, this time to his other cheek. Vaisey's ring, Guy realised as the pain hit. He cried out, unable to stop himself.

'You idiot, Gisborne. You are useless! How does an old woman get away? You think I'm as stupid as you are?' Vaisey hit him again. Guy made no attempt to fight back, to stop him. It wasn't the first time this had happened and Guy felt every bit as stupid as Vaisey told him he was.

'I'm sorry, my Lord,' he gasped trying to push up from the bed he had fallen on to.

'You let her go, didn't you?'

'No-'

'Don't lie to me!' Vaisey was suddenly in his face, screaming. 'Don't you ever lie to me!' Guy recoiled and flinched again as Vaisey grabbed a handful of his hair pulling his head back, forcing him to look at him.

'You are a useless fool, I always knew you were weak. I tried to show you, to teach you. Well this is what you've lost: Nottingham!'

Guy didn't speak, but his face must have given away his confusion. Vaisey laughed cruelly at him.

'Nottingham. Fortunately your pathetic conscience hasn't wrecked everything, _this time._I have been rewarded. I am the new Sheriff of Nottingham and I was going to give you some lands, let me see, what estate was I thinking of for you . . . Clipston? Bilborugh? Ashby, bit far out, but good prospect. No, I was thinking of Locksley.'

'My Lord, I will do anything, please, give me another chance,' Guy was desperate, he cursed himself, Locksley. He could hardly believe it. Vaisey let go of him, leaving him bruised and panting in the middle of the bed, his ribs burning, his face throbbing.

'Too late.'

'Please, my Lord. I have always served you loyally, I have done everything you have asked. I have followed you, I will do anything. I will do _anything_!' Guy knew he was begging, but he didn't care. He was beside himself. How could have been so stupid. Vaisey was right, there was no place for sentiment. Vaisey was proof of that. He had money, power, land. Guy had nothing.

'You are pathetic,' Vaisey spat the words. 'You think there is anything you can do to make up for failing me?'

Guy considered. He was remembering. All the times Vaisey had touched him just a little too closely, looked at him a little too long. That night in Norwich. Guy swallowed. Locksley, his father's lands, his rightful home. He would do anything, if only he had known this was the prize he would have killed Lady Margaret in the blink of an eye, hell he'd have killed the Queen, the King, the whole damn lot of them.

He fixed Vaisey with a meaningful look, his blue eyes wide and open. He straightened himself out on the bed.

'I will do anything for you,' he said softly. 'I will give you anything you want, anything at all, if you give me Locksley.'

Vaisey looked at Guy. A smirk began to spread across his face. He sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand on Guy's thigh, smiled broadly when Guy didn't move or flinch. Vaisey began to stroke his hand up and down the leather glad leg.

'You'll really give me what I want, willingly?' he asked, fixing Guy with an intense look.

'Yes, if you promise me Locksley.'

'Good, good,' Vaisey murmured letting his hand roam higher up Guy's leg. Guy felt himself tensing, then remembering he had to go along with this, he relaxed.

'Promise me, promise me Locksley will be mine.'

'I promise you can have Locksley,' Vaisey said with a smile. 'Now I've promised you, you promise me.'

'Promise you what?' Guy thought he was making things pretty clear. Vaisey leaned over him, pressing into his body, and whispered in his ear.

'Say that you will fuck me.'

Guy closed his eyes, this was real, he was actually doing this. It would be over quickly, surely? Then he would get his lands back, his birthright.

'I will fuck you,' Guy whispered, his face burning with humiliation. He was a whore, giving himself to a rich man for a reward. Vaisey laughed, but there was no warmth in it. It was the exalted laugh of a victor. Guy felt a hand over his cock, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget who was doing this.

'That's my boy, now turn over,' Guy began to roll on to his stomach. 'No, wait. First thing's first. Take off your breeches, it's going to be hard work fucking you through that leather.'

* * *

><p>Guy watched the sun stream through the window. He hadn't slept for two nights. The first he had been up all night helping Lady Margaret escape. The second he had been used as Vaisey's plaything. Even when Vaisey had finally gone to sleep Guy had lain awake. Pain and humiliation crippling him. Tears of anger and self-loathing falling silently down his cheeks.<p>

It had been gentle at first, Guy thought he had wanted him to enjoy it. After making Guy strip for him Vaisey had touched every inch of him, like a hungry animal finally allowed to devour its prey Guy had been consumed. Vaisey had made him suck him, Guy wasn't surprised, it was humiliation, that was why he did it. It sure as hell wasn't because Guy knew what he was doing. Finally realising Guy was either going to choke or vomit Vaisey had given up and turned him over. Despite his initial care it hurt like hell. Guy had cried out, to no avail. His pain seemed to excite Vaisey and soon he was fucking Guy has hard and deep as he could. Guy bit down on the pillow in a desperate attempt to muffle his cries. Then there was the salty wetness, slipping between his thighs, stinging his already burning backside. Guy didn't know what was worse, the pain, the humiliation or the fact that he had been hard the whole time, finally succumbing to a hand working him, much to Vaisey's vicious delight.

Guy tried to rise again, but he couldn't. He knew at some point he was going to have to get up, get dressed and face the world. No-one would know, he told himself. But he would know. He would always know what lengths he would go to. So would Vaisey. Guy wondered how long it would be before he demanded that again. Not long he suspected. With that thought another tear escaped his eye. Guy tried to think of Locksley, of having land again. But at that moment, as he lay naked and bleeding in Vaisey's bed he knew he had paid too high a price. He knew he had sold what little remained of his soul.

* * *

><p><em>Nottingham Castle. Two Months Later.<em>_  
><em>  
>Guy was standing behind Vaisey as he conducted his second council of nobles and was feeling immensely satisfied. He had been installed as caretaker Lord of Locksley, not entirely what he wanted, but nearly good enough. Vaisey had waved away his initial fury at not being granted them permanently.<p>

'Robin of Locksley is in the Holy Land, he'll never come back, unless as bones in a box. They're your lands.'

'And if he does return?' Guy had shouted back.

'Relax, I'll get them back for you,' Vaisey had smirked at him, shaking his head. 'You worry too much, Gisborne.'

It was good enough, after everything. To finally be home, to finally be in Locksley, to finally be able to punish those who had hurt him. Guy had taken delight in handing out cruel punishments to his peasants. He would teach them, they deserved it, the two-faced bastards. He had no problems implementing Vaisey's new, tough regime of taxes and laws, making sure the hardest burdens fell on those he felt had wronged his family the most.

He surveyed the nobles, sitting in a semi-circle around Vaisey. Guy was not in the semi circle, he was at Vaisey's right hand, his position of power and influence visible to all. His word was law. No man in Nottingham could over rule him, save the Sheriff himself. He had his own men, his own coat of arms. He had freedom to do as he pleased with his estates. Power at last. Guy smirked as Vaisey issued another cutting put down. These fools had no idea who they were dealing with, did they think they could best Vaisey?

Guy watched them all, men with fear in their eyes, men who were afraid of him and the Sheriff, men who could do nothing about it. Guy's eyes went round each person. Finally settling on the person he liked most to look at. He gaze softened. It was her.

Nottingham wasn't all laws, estates, vengeance and taxes. There was a lady. He had first seen her at the Sheriff's banquet to celebrate his arrival. Guy had been pleased to find that he was rather popular with local women, all keen to curry favour with the new regime. But she had been different. He had watched her for several weeks. She spoke politely to servants, gave alms to the poor, spoke out against what she perceived as injustices. She was good and kind and beautiful, her youth and innocence a shining light in his cynical, brutal world. Her face was sad, Guy wondered why. He was used to sadness, it followed him everywhere, he saw it daily everywhere he went and was impervious to it. But with her he wanted to heal, make her happy, to see that rare smile, those blue eyes light up with joy.

Vaisey hated her. Guy didn't, he thought she was the most beautiful, angelic woman he had ever seen. He hadn't actually spoken to her yet, except to be introduced, he would do so in time. Make her acquaintance, find favour, then when his lands were legally in his name he would court her openly. She was perfect, she was what he wanted and what he needed, she would complete him and heal his hurts, her goodness and pureness would wash away his sins.

She was Marian of Knighton. She would be the love of his life.

_The End._


End file.
